Run for Your Life
by Susanna King
Summary: {SLOWBURN}{Beginning in GoF} Miss Maisie Martin-Moors has always been a rather unfortunate girl. When the rising return of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named threatens to destroy everything she holds dear, she is forced to act and choose whether to remain in the Light or tie herself to the Dark Lord himself, who suspiciously cares about her life. {Lord Voldemort/Tom RiddleXOC} {Rated M}
1. Chapter 1

**Hello!**

 **Here is a warning/authors note.**

 **This story will be full of drama, manipulation, smut (later), psychological abuse, domestic abuse and horror. What else can you expect out of Tom Riddle/Voldemort, really? There will be a fair bit of time in between now and when this takes place, so there's no need to cringe yet, but be prepared to read my Authors notes, because there'll be a warning when it happens.**

 **As it is, this story would be under the 'Not Rated' or 'R' rated category. Yep, that's fun.**

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 **September, 1994**

 **Hogwarts, Scotland**

 _ **The Girl who Dreamt of the Red-Eyed Man**_

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Inside of a large, magical scarlet train, in the eighth compartment down, there was a not very impressive, nor very noticeable girl who was leaning against the window, staring outside at the rushes of colors that flew by just outside the small room. Her name was comprised of many M's, and was to be honest, the most interesting thing there was about her as of yet. Maisie had just turned fifteen that day, though the celebrations hadn't really been all that interesting either. A stack of flapjacks with a Muggle candle stuck inside of it, and lit at the top.

The magical fifteen year old was alone, with only a small rat at her side for company. Since she was born this day fifteen years ago, she'd never really made any friends with anybody. She was closest to her family, which was small and little, despite her mostly Pureblooded origin. It held to this day only her father, Aunt and herself were still apart of it. Her Grandparents were either dead or across the wide Atlantic Ocean, settled where her Mother grew up in the East Coast of America. With the large gap between herself and everyone else, she found herself very lonely.

But this year, fear had much more firmly attached itself to Maisie's usual sense of anxiety on her way back to Hogwarts school. During the Summer, there was the Quidditch World Cup. She and her Aunt Venus had gone, getting a very bad view of the Game, but both being quiet satisfied that they'd got to attend. Then, the worst thing had happened, after they'd retired to their tent to sleep. Tall men, in long black robes and masks had paraded between the tents with the Muggles who'd allowed them inside of the grounds. They'd tortured those poor Muggles, spun them around and stripped them, done horrible, awful things to them. Her Aunt had clamped her hands over Maisie's eyes, but not before she'd gotten a glimpse of what they'd begun to do. She'd dragged them both away, Disapparated with her.

The sight had haunted her since then. Her father'd had to come by to soothe her, but she'd laid awake in her bed for hours until she'd passed out with exhaustion. Her rest hadn't been at all easy, because of the dream she'd had. Walking in through an old, creaking house. Peering in between the old boards of a wall, where yellow light was coming through from a fire that was inside. The last thing that Maisie felt was fear. Even when a snake, the biggest snake she'd ever seen, came slithering past her, the snake's cool scales brushing against her leg on it's way into the very room she'd been peering into, there was no fear inside of her. In fact she felt fond of that snake, of it's hisses and flickering tongue. It was tasting the air close to her.

Then, she'd turned her back on the snake, something she'd most definitely never have done, to look back inside. There was someone there, three someones. A person in a cloak, in an armchair, looking ill and unwell, and she'd felt surging pulses of sorrow and care for this person. The two were clearly male, one large with a rat-like face and a twitchy exterior that inspired distaste. The last was a much easier looking man to observe, with dark hair and a tongue that flicked to the side oddly. Then, the person in the chair, he'd turned and looked at her. Straight at her, in her eyes. He was very much a male, and his eyes glowed a deep red, that now, that she was thinking back on it, scared her for the reason that at the time, it hadn't frightened her even a little bit.

She had been actively avoiding thinking about it the entire visit at her Aunties house, and then up until her Father dropped her off at the Platform after her make-shift birthday party. But now, it was all that was flooding her mind, especially now that she was alone with nothing but her thoughts to entertain her. Why, oh Merlin and Morgana why had she felt those disturbing things? There was so very obviously something... Not right about those men. Something sinister and scary, but she hadn't felt anything but calm and care. And who were they, now that she was thinking of it? It couldn't possibly be anyone that she knew. Her Aunt told her that every face you saw in a dream was the face of someone that you'd seen before. And she's never seen such a person in her life... A daunting, heavy feeling told her that she may have had a _vision_ of sorts. The kinds that Professor Trelawney so often spoke of. Maybe she should go and tell her about her dream? Perhaps she could shed at least the bit of light on it. She was a _Professor_ after all.

Perturbed, Maisie fetched her trunk from above her and retrieved her Divination textbook. She began flipping through it quickly, just beginning to read as the woman with the lunch cart came rumbling by in the narrow hallway. She bought a pork meat pie from her and a bottle of gillywater to wash it down with, not being very fond of the variety of sweets on the cart, handing her one of the galleons from her rather girly coin purse that she'd fetched out of her bag. She nibbled at the savory pie throughout the rest of the train ride, occasionally putting a chunk of it into her mouth as her eyes followed the words on the page. The information was vague and unhelpful about her experience.

Maisie huffed and shut the book with a sharp 'CLAP'ing sound that made Eugenia squeak in alarm at being awoken from her nap.

"Sorry honey." She mumbled apologetically, pushing her sable-colored hair behind her head. Her fingertips moved into the cage, rubbing the top of her rat's dark head before she nipped at her with her teeth. With nothing to do now but wait until they reached the school, she grasped hold of her gillywater bottle, removing the cap and finishing it off before vanishing it with a swish of her wand. It took at least a half an hour for the train to slow into the Hogsmeade station. The sky outside of her window was quite dark with the stormy night, with dark clouds and the ugly sound of rain coming down. She hated it, the cold rain that she was going to have to go out into. She wished she was more proficient in Transfiguration, perhaps then she might have been able to turn her water bottle into an umbrella... Maisie picked up Eugenia's gilded cage, holding it to her chest so she could bustling past a few students, avoiding elbows and knees that threatened to move in front of her and accidentally knock both herself and Eugenia to the floor to be trampled upon. There was a clap of thunder overhead, and the rain came down in what felt like icy buckets over her.

Covering the cage with her too big Gryffindor robes, she found herself pushed into one of the carriages filled with four other members of her house that she didn't know very well. However, when she stumbled inside, she wasn't fast enough to sit down, because the door shut with a snap behind her, catching the fabric of her skirt and robes, making her gasp with shock and a horrible embarrassment that encompassed her as it ripped, baring the lightly tanned curve of her upper thigh, as well as a bit of her blue knickers, that were printed with red strawberries over them.

"Oh no!" The only other girl in the compartment exclaimed at the sound of the rip, hurrying next to her to grasp at where the fabric was caught in the door. She had huge bushy brown hair and was smartly wearing black pantyhose underneath her skirt, unlike Maisie who wore very tall, wool socks lined with Gryffindor red and gold around the top. The boy across from them was making a strange noise like he was dying as they tore her robes out of the door's grasp, the rip growing higher up her leg.

Mortified, she fumbled with her wand, fixing her skirt with a mumbled _'Reparo!'._ The bushy-haired girl, whose name still escaped her, gave her a very sympathetic look as she sat down on her other side. Then, when she saw the red haired boy beside her was still staring at Maisie with his blue eyes wide, she gave him a swift smack in the arm with the heavy book in her arms, making him curse in response and turn away, ears just as burning red as Maisie's face. She covered her face with her hands to hide herself, leaning over heavily, elbows on her knees as her brown hair curtained around her face, hiding her face. It would be just her luck if this got out to the school. Merlin, just the thought of the Slytherin's (who didn't notice her anymore than anybody else did, but only recognized that she was a nameless Gryffindor who no doubt required their torturous assistance) hearing about it and getting even more reason to taunt her throughout her day. And they had just gotten over making up cruel nicknames for her too...

Then, the long-haired girl jumped out of the compartment as soon as she possibly could and then began to _run_ , her thick robes over her head and protecting her from the rain, even if it did blind her a bit. She managed to get past Peeves without even looking up to see him. He had been preparing bright red water balloons to drop on the students, and he shouted a loud _'HEY!'_ as she ran through the Entrance Hall and into the huge doors of the Great Hall, which had been made up with it's usual golden splendor, lit white candles of every size imaginable hovering through the hall.

Setting her robes down once she deemed it were safe, she shook off the water that was clinging to her clothing before walking over to the slowly-filling Gryffindor table at the farthest table. She sat knowing no one would willingly sit around her, in front of a golden platter and plate. Sir Nicholas was down at the other side of the table, much farther away from her, only after sending a courtesy glance down the long table. Even _ghosts_ didn't want to be around her, she thought grimly. It was like she was walking around Hogwarts in a bubble that had a note saying 'Do not Talk to' on it.

Maisie pushed some of her damp hair behind her ear as the table filled up with other Gryffindors, all of them avoiding sitting too close to her. For once she was glad for it, after what happened in the carriage. Nobody would know her by name, at all, or even by her face, but that didn't calm her anymore than her wish of Professor Dumbledore approaching her and telling her that she no longer had to attend her classes because none of the teachers recalled having her on their rosters. She breathed in the familiar smell of the Great Hall. It was nice and warm with the many lit candles and the lovely fireplace a flame. It was even nice enough that she pushed her robes off her shoulders, then adjusted her sleeves up. She wasn't that hungry, her pie from the train tiding her over well enough, but she was thirsty for some cold pumpkin juice. Maybe some soup if it was close enough to her...

The Great Hall doors opened up to reveal Professor McGonagall, which caused a deep silence to settle over the hall. She was leading the first years, whose robes were still all black, up towards the center of the room. Just before the Staff table was the stool holding the old Sorting Hat. But Maisie didn't really like the hat. It had frightened her when it was settled on her head when she was even smaller at the tender age of eleven. She frowned as it began it's song, it's old wrinkles and flaps forming a mouth and eyes. She turned back to her golden plate, ignoring it's loud new song. Her face was askew in the rounded metal, like a funhouse mirror. Her defined and strong jawline was dragged off in odd directions, her slightly wide and upturned nose looked more like a pigs than a human's, and her round eyes dwarfed the rest of her face. Maisie yanked her eyes away from her reflection, towards the Sorting Hat just as it ended it's song.

Applause filled the room, and she joined in, clapping lightly for the scary old hat. Professor McGonagall unrolled a large piece of parchment and began to call out names. Maisie tried to remain listening, she really did, she always enjoyed watching the Sorting, even with that old hat being involved, but there was a strange feeling on the back of her head. She turned, her hair falling about her shoulders as she looked around. Nobody was looking at her. They were looking around her (or maybe just through her) towards the Sorting, just as 'McDonald, Natalie' joined the end of the table to a small burst of applause. But her dull green eyes continued to try to search out the cause of the odd feeling. Nobody noticed her odd behavior—how could anyone notice when they all looked right through her and out to the other side?

The end of the Sorting and the beginning of the Feast began with the words ' _Tuck in_ ' from the Headmaster. Food in spades appeared on the table, all in shining gold and silver bowls and serving dishes. A bowl and silverware appeared in front of her. Hesitantly, she turned to the food, which had enthralled the other students, especially the first years at the end of the table. Some of them had actually gasped out in surprise when the glorious dishes appeared in front of them.

Her one bit of luck was that no one was interested in the soups compared to the amount of beef wellington, roasted chicken and mash that was spread out on the table. There was even a cooked pig with an apple in it's mouth down the table. Maisie poured a ladle of fragrant lentil soup into her bowl, then stabbed a few slices of roasted chicken onto her plate, covering it with a spoonful of cranberry. Unfortunately, the jug of ice-cold pumpkin juice was being passed around to everyone _but_ her, even as she requested it with her hands up to draw some attention to herself. Of course, none of the other students noticed her or her request. It took seven minutes to get the jug, and it had been empty when she got it, nothing but ice at the bottom. If not for the refilling factor that occurred after she had gotten it, she wouldn't have gotten any at all.

With a dejected sigh, the fourth year poured herself a goblet of juice before settling it back onto the table, tucking in charily. Maisie was halfway through her soup, which wasn't as satisfying as she expected now, when that horrible sensation occurred again. But this time, when she turned her head, there was indeed someone staring at her. And she knew them, who in the Wizarding World didn't know him? Harry Potter was looking at _her_ , directly at her, he wasn't looking around her or through her like the rest of their House. His much more startling green eyes were firmly on her _face_ , looking into her eyes and he gave her a slight grin. It somehow emptied the heaviness in her chest, which she was so used to by now that it was a shock when it was gone. Harry gave her a slight nod with his chin before turning back to his own meal. Queerly comforted by the Boy-Who-Lived's gesture, Maisie settled to finishing her food, suddenly quite ravenous.

She managed to take on another small helping of chicken before the pudding arrived, replacing the large plates of meats, potatoes and green beans with high stacks of trifle, dozens of pies and cakes and helpings of lemon custard and frozen ice creams. She hadn't been planning on partaking in any of the sweets and puddings, but she was a bit inspired to take a small serving of apple crumble, the American dessert comforting her. Her mother always used to make foods that she enjoyed during her families' Thanksgivings in Massachusetts for her to try, even though some of them were fairly strange to Great Britain. Peanut butter and grape jelly sandwiches in particular confused her, especially when she found that she liked it. The way the sweet jelly combined with the savory and salty peanut butter. It made her miss her Mum thinking about it.

Dessert eventually faded away to shining clean plates and goblets as the Feast ended. The Headmaster rose to his feet, causing the chatter to fade to silence, at least within the Great Hall, as outside it was howling with rain and thunder.

"So!" Dumbledore said with a smile on his old face. "Now that we are all fed and watered, I must once more ask for your attention while I give out a few notices." He began, smoothing over his long lavender colored robes that had silvery shapes and such sewn into the fabric. "Mr. Filch, our caretaker, has asked me to tell you that the list of objects forbidden inside the castle has this year been extended to include Screaming Yo-yos, Fanged Frisbees and Ever-Bashing Boomerangs. The full list comprises some four hundred and thirty-seven items, I believe, and can be viewed in Mr. Filch's office, if anybody would like to check it." The corner of his mouth twitched with amusement, Maisie noticed.

"As ever, I would like to remind you all that the Forest in the grounds is out-of-bounds to students, as is the village of Hogsmeade to all below third year. It is also my painful duty to inform you that the inter-house Quidditch Cup will not take place this year." Professor Dumbledore said. The last bit caused quite the uproar in the Great Hall, everyone gawking at the Headmaster and the Staff table with complete and utter shock. Even Maisie was a little surprised, as Quidditch was treated as one of the most important things during the school year at Hogwarts. What else would be distracting enough to students, if not the Quidditch Cup? And what else could distract the Slytherin bullies from torturing her worse? "This is due to an event that will be starting in October, and continuing throughout the school year, taking up much of the teachers time and energy—but I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts-" But at that moment, there was a loud and terrible rumble of thunder just outside.

She clamped her pink-tinted hands over her ears as the Great Hall doors banged open. Maisie peaked at who the visitor was, her mouth in a fearful grimace. The man's face looked like it was a wooden carving gone wrong, with chunks missing and uneven skin lumped over whatever bones were underneath. He had a brilliantly blue colored eye that stuck out of his skull, it swiveled around rapidly, looking at everything and everyone in particular. She felt herself tremble with dismay when that eye landed on her for a split second before turning away. He shook Dumbledore's hand, muttering to him.

"May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Alastor Moody." He announced to the hall after Moody got into the empty chair next to Professor Snape, his blue eye turning and focusing on the black-cloaked Potions Master, looking at him up and down as if he were scrutinizing him before turning back towards the Hall, stabbing sausages with a folding knife and eating them gruffly.

The Headmaster cleared his throat. "As I was saying," he said, smiling out at them. "We are to have the honor of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event which has not been held for over a century. It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year."

Then, one of the Weasley twins who were just a few seats away from her (making her jump a bit in her seat), shouted out, "YOU'RE JOKING!" throughout the Hall, causing laughter to bubble up from three of the tables. Even Dumbledore chuckled appreciatively.

"I am _not_ joking, Mr. Weasley." He said. "Though now that you mention it, I did hear an excellent one over the summer about a troll, a hag and a leprechaun who all go into a bar-" Professor McGonagall cleared her throat. "Er—but maybe this is the wrong time for that... No..." Said Dumbledore. "Where was I? Ah yes, the Triwizard Tournament... Well, some of you will not know what this Tournament involves, so I hope those who _do_ know will forgive me for giving a short explanation, and allow their attention to wander freely." Maisie only had a vague idea of what the Tournament was. While she was technically a pureblood (or perhaps a 4/5th's blood?) not many in her family were privy to Games such as the one that the Headmaster was explaining to the Hall.

Curious, she listened intently. "The Triwizard Tournament was first established some seven hundred years ago, as a friendly competition between the three largest European schools of wizardry—Hogwarts, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. A champion was selected to represent each school, and the three champions competed in three magical tasks." Magical tasks? That sounded dreadful, and her wand arm twitched. "The schools took it in turns to host the Tournament once every five years, and it was generally agreed to be the most excellent way of establishing ties between young witches and wizards of different nationalities—until, that is, the death toll mounted so high that the Tournament was discontinued."

Maisie's open-mouthed horror wasn't shared by many others, in fact, everyone around her was chattering excitedly, uncaring for the deaths of the past contestants. It made her stomach turn, just at the thought of those students just like her facing who knows what in the Tournament?

"There have been several attempts over the centuries to reinstate the Tournament," Dumbledore continued. "None of which have been very successful. However, our own Departments of International Magical Co-Operation and Magical Games and Sports have decided the time is ripe for another attempt. We have worked hard over the summer to ensure that, this time, no champion will find himself or herself in mortal danger." That settled the turning in her stomach a little bit, no longer making her dinner threaten her from the inside, but she was still rather uneasy. "The Heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving with their short-listed contenders in October, and the selection of the three champions will take place at Halloween. An impartial judge will decide which students are most worthy to compete for the Triwizard Cup, the glory of their school, and a thousand Galleons personal prize money."

The whispering around her heightened again, and Maisie frowned before wrapping her arms around herself, gripping onto her baggy school sweater sleeve. She looked around her, and she saw a few ambitious gleams in her House mate's eyes. Were they all planning on trying out for it? Even with the danger?

"Eager though I know all of you will be to bring the Triwizard Cup to Hogwarts," He said. "The Heads of the participating schools, along with the Ministry of Magic, have agreed to impose an age restriction on contenders this year. Only students who are of age—that is to say, seventeen years or older—will be allowed to put forward their names for consideration. This-" Dumbledore raised his voice, for several people (most at her table) made noises of discontent. "is a measure we feel is necessary, given that the Tournament tasks will still be difficult and dangerous, whatever precautions we take, and it is highly unlikely that students below sixth and seventh year will be able to cope with them. I will personally be ensuring that no underage student hoodwinks our impartial judge into making them Hogwarts Champion. I therefore beg you not to waste your time submitting yourself if you are under seventeen."

Her dark brown brows relaxed slightly, picking up her robes as Dumbledore ended his announcement. Students new and old filed out of the Great Hall, Prefects leading the first years ahead of everyone else, and Maisie waited awhile before trailing off up the staircase and then towards the door behind a large tapestry. It lead up a narrow staircase, and she hopped over the false step without thinking. Just after her, Neville Longbottom, a nice boy with ears that stuck out and large front teeth, got stuck in the step. Any other day, she may have assisted him, but today she just continued up the stairs, past the cackling suit of armor, and towards the Fat Lady, who was pictured in a light pink dress made of silk.

"Password?" She asked, and one of the Weasley twins said 'Balderdash' from behind her before pushing right past her, not even seeing that she was there, into the Gryffindor Common Room. They didn't even apologize when they each bumped into her shoulder, one after another. She grasped it, stumbling through the portrait hole and over towards an empty corner of the room after the dozens of other Gryffindor's filed in all ignoring her as if she wasn't there at all, drawn into herself as girls and boys alike went up to the Dormitories. It was only when the groups were gone that she followed up the staircase towards the fourth level, where her bed was.

At least the house elves didn't forget about her, because when she walked into the warm room her trunk was there in front of an empty bed, along with Eugenia in her cage, looking excited to see her.

Maisie smiled at her pet rat, walking over to her red curtained bed and sitting on top of it. She'd have to unpack before she fell asleep that night, definitely, but for now she just took Eugenia out of her cage and scratched her little dark brown head. She squeaked and raised her head up to meet her finger, obviously enjoying the attention she gave her. She nibbled on her finger affectionately before crawling up her arm, her little claws nicking her skin in a very familiar way. Her pet loved to crawl up over her clothes and settle against the crook of her neck, acting like a hot water bottle and making it rather difficult to turn her head around. But Maisie still let her, feeling tiny claws scraping against the skin of her shoulder as she plopped her furry body there and made herself comfortable.

The sable haired girl picked out the small stack of moving photographs from her truck. Some of the photographs had Marvel's Moving Stickers on them, a few paper daisies blooming or a sun sticker shining and spinning around. She taped them to the wall, while her only framed photo, one of her pretty blonde-haired Mother, posing in a floral dress and a huge light green chrysanthemum in her hair, was set on her dresser. She was turning, smiling into the camera in that effortlessly feminine way that she always had, her light blonde hair flowing in the slight breeze. Mabel Martin was always one of the most beautiful ladies she'd ever seen, and sometimes Maisie wished that she had more of her Mother's features. She had her nose, which was a bit wide and upturned in a delicately cute way. But her hair was her Father's, with bits and pieces of her face from her Grandparents, but nothing else that was purely _her_.

With a small jerk of her head, Maisie fetched all of her clothing and folded them into her drawers neatly, her undergarments even being placed nicely, with her socks and tights rolled safely in the back and her brassieres untangled and folded in half. Fed up with all this movement, Eugenia hopped off of her shoulder and onto her bed, crawling underneath the blankets in a small wiggling lump. Finished with the menial work, she changed into her nightdress and cleaned her teeth with a flick of her willow wand. The other girls that shared her room were already in their beds, chatting with one another while another was in the bathroom, the sound of the water running. They barely noticed she was there at all.

Sliding underneath the covers and sheets, making Eugenia squeak and crawl up until she rested on her stomach, Maisie closed her curtains and settled back with a hope that she'd dream peacefully that night.

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 **Q: Would you rather have a cat, owl, a toad, or a rat with you at Hogwarts?**

 **R &R!**


	2. Chapter 2

**ahhh, new chapter**

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 **September, 1994**

 **Hogwarts, Scotland**

 _ **The School Quack**_

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She dreamt of nothing, which she supposed was the best thing she could ask for, compared to the things she'd been dreaming lately. It was rare that she ever had normal good dreams, like of giant purring cats or of Eugenia who would spontaneously begin to dance in one of her prettiest floral dresses. Her nicest dreams were of pitch blackness and the warm feeling of affection from a body-less someone, who would move warm, soft hands over her arms before pulling her into their chest. Because she'd never felt breasts, she began to assume that the person was a man, which sent her tummy full of hummingbirds.

Maisie got up from her warm bed, clutching at her girly quilt that she'd covered herself with in the middle of the night, finding windows still shut and the fireplace unlit by any of her roommates. She was the first one up this morning. Taking advantage of this (as the first day of classes was always the busiest, with the others all fussing about with their hair and makeup), she took the time to dress without even closing her bed curtains. Sliding up new peachy-colored knickers and then long black stockings (she'd had to search for her old garter belts for a while, turned out they were tangled with a black brassier of hers that she'd forgotten to fold in her drawer) were slid up high at her thick thighs and clipped. When Maisie was in the middle of buttoning up her school shirt, one of the other girls began to awaken. It was the bushy-haired girl. Hermione, she just now remembered. She helped her with her skirt in the carriage, which must have meant... The horror dawned upon her. If Hermione had been in that carriage, then that meant that.. _Harry Potter_ had seen her stupid strawberry print knickers.

Turning red all over again, Maisie pulled up her grey skirt hurriedly, buttoning the side of it as she settled it up over her shirt and on the top curve of her hips. It took her two tries to finish her Gryffindor tie, as her fingers kept trembling before she could remember the knot that she always used, and she rushed pulling her vest (which had been black at some point, but had clearly been washed one time too many, as now it was too small and no longer as dark as it had been) over her head, it's fabric clinging to her sides in an not very decent way, but she was in far too much of a hurry to worry over it now.

She desperately wanted to be _away_. Anywhere but here. And in her escape route, one very viable option included the bathroom, which she went inside with her clear, glitter-covered plastic toiletry bag and locked the door behind her with a swish of her wand. It was unlikely that Granger would recognize her, surely. But in the case that she _did_ , she didn't want to be in the room if it occurred. So she ran her brush through her hair, going too fast, catching a few tangles and making her skull sting. Her morning charms, cleaning her teeth, washing her face, curling her lashes and even going as far to curl her hair slightly, wanting to take as much time as she possibly could in there so as to wait out the other girls. It was easier to hide when there was a bustle around her, it was when she was bumped into the very most.

And she was right, Maisie noticed that Lavender Brown was up and awake, chatting with Parvati as they brushed their hair, while Hermione was in the middle of getting dressed, her back turned to her. So she darted out of the bathroom and fetched her cloak and bag before escaping out of the room and down the stone stairs.

With a small breath of relief, she walked through the somewhat empty Common Room, wearily looking over at all the red-gold decor, noticing how warm and friendly it must have felt to the rest of her house. But for her, it just made her eyes strain with irritation. She wished that she had some kind of connection to this place, like so many others did. But to her it was just one of the many rooms she'd been in throughout her Hogwarts career. She never curled up with a book on the cushy couches, nor did she study at the table by the window. Never kissed a boy near the curtains (she had never kissed anyone at all actually). Some days, she was so sure that the Sorting Hat made a mistake. Most days, she thought that.

Frowning, and then forcibly removing it from her when she realized how much frowning she'd been doing since yesterday, Maisie started out towards the portrait hole, hauling her bag over her shoulder. But there was a tingling sensation on the back of her head, like yesterday.

"Hey! Wait up!" Someone said behind her, a boy. Ignoring it, as obviously no one ever even acknowledged her, she kept on walking, reaching out to push the Fat Lady's portrait open. But then a hand grabbed her shoulder and she actually _shrieked_ in surprise, pushing herself against the wall inwardly, her arms over her torso weakly to protect herself. She hadn't even thought of going for her wand, as whoever would have approached her would have taken it away at the first chance anyway. It was just so completely unusual for anybody, anybody at all in her House to even look her way, let alone touch her should and call out for her.

Harry looked shocked, surprised, and extremely worried at the sight of the girl, especially the way she curled away from him and his touch. She had jumped back like his touch burned her, and the look in her eyes was terrified. Protective instincts rose inside him for this much too slight girl who had fearfully cowered away from his grasp, like she was expecting him to raise his hand up and strike her in some way. "Please." He said gently, fearfully, keeping a bit of a distance from her. No one around them had even looked up at her scared sound, not turned away from the fire nor stopped talking to their friends by the walls. Simmering away with rage at that, Harry tried to soften his expression so as not to scare her more.

Thankfully, her fright had diminished, replaced by embarrassment. "I-I'm so sorry." She muttered, her arms reluctantly falling from their protective stance over her chest and instead fell to her sides, turning and squirming as if she didn't know what to do with them. He noticed that they were a bit long, her arms. Not in an odd or noticeable way, in fact if he had to describe them as anything, it would be to compare them to a very breakable, very fragile figurine. Like the ballerina's that Aunt Petunia rarely watched on the telly. There were a few dark freckles on her skin though, on the side of her throat and on the underside of her wrist that told him no, she wasn't actually a figure made of clay and porcelain, but a girl who was still very much against the stone wall behind her.

"You're sorry?" Harry inquired, a bit incredulously. He was the one who scared her socks off, and she was the one apologizing? No one had even acknowledged her scream when she belted it out, so she couldn't have said sorry for interrupting anyone's morning. She nodded her head, mostly using her strong chin to move like a bobble head, looking actually a bit guilty, as if she'd done something inexcusable. It reminded him a bit of Dobby, with his huge ball-like eyes and stick-like body. "I'm the one should be sorry, I didn't think I'd scare you." He blurted out, trying not to come closer like he wanted to, so she wouldn't run off. She looked like a baby deer or antelope, with shaking limbs and cautious looks.

"I didn't mean to scream." She stated, a bit questioning, like she was asking herself 'why had I done that?'. Her eyes, which were a light shade of green, more like moss than the emerald of his own, darted up to meet his. She stared straight at him, pupil to pupil, and it made him uncomfortable. "I'm fine, thank you Potter." She told him firmly before turning on her heel out of the Common Room, her hair walloping the smell of white tea into his face, stunning him for a moment. He was left there to be found by Dean Thomas, while the thought, ' _I don't really like tea that much_ ' came through his head.

Maisie shuffled into the Great Hall, sitting down at a sparse spot at the table in front of a platter of black pudding. Taking one of the short white tea cups that was in a high stack on the table, she made herself a shaky cup of tea before making herself a small plate for breakfast. Some of the Slytherin's were already at their table, but they had yet to notice her.

Thankful for this small moment of luck, she put a scoopful of baked beans on top of her golden fried toast. Mornings were usually her preferred time of day, and she hated for them to be ruined by a spell sent her way to make her spill her breakfast or tea in some way. Trying to forget what had happened in the Common room, she inhaled the fragrant aroma of her cooling tea, which had been given the exactly right amount of sugar that it needed to be enjoyed at it's fullest in _her_ opinion, Maisie took a pleasant sip of it before setting it down on top of her table napkin.

As she enjoyed her breakfast, Professor McGonagall began to go down the table, handing out class schedules and such. For the first day though, it was terribly rare for any actual work to be done from the textbook, which was why the sable-haired girl wasn't all that worried about having to go back up and fetch anything from her dorm room. Taking a bite from her fried tomato, she waited diligently for the Professor to notice her. But she didn't, which absolutely shocked her. Professors usually didn't overlook her like her fellow classmates did. But McGonagall walked right past her to give Collin Creevey his schedule.

She was so surprised that she didn't say a word, only sat there with her mouth hung open wondering if McGonagall maybe had done it on purpose for some reason? But why would she have done that? To talk to her? Her professors never wanted to talk to her, not even Snape, who usually enjoyed taunting students, never said anything other than a ' _Fine_ ' or ' _Adequate_ ' towards her about her potion, even when it was completely botched.

Hurt and her hunger vanished, Maisie grabbed for her things, ready to leave and perhaps go to the Infirmary to ask if somehow somebody had turned her invisible without her knowledge. That would explain McGonagall walking right by her. It was just rather than being ignored by everyone, nobody had seen her. It would have had to happened after she left the Common Room, because Potter had seen her before that. But then, how was it that nobody had seen her fork floating there and food disappearing off of it? Even in the Magical world, that would be seen as a bit unusual.

"Ms Martin-Moors!" Professor Flitwick chirped when she passed him. She stopped in her tracks and jumped away from her half-goblin Professor who HAD been next to the Ravenclaw table but was now quite close to her. He waved a piece of paper at her. It was her schedule, she realized, it had her name written in McGonagall's script on it. "I believe Professor McGonagall misplaced your schedule, because I found it in my stack! Isn't that rather odd?"

"Yes. Odd." She replied dumbly, taking the paper from him. "Thank you, sir." Maisie then told him. He nodded before returning to his own students.

She felt a bit bad now, thinking that her Head of House had forgotten her. Of course she wouldn't, she was her teacher wasn't she? And McGonagall was such a sharp witch, there was no way that she'd forget her or overlook her. So she humbly returned to her spot, passing by the Weasley twins who were talking about using an Aging potion to get past the age restriction for the Triwizard Tournament. If she had known them at all, she would have said something. They acted like such nice blokes when they weren't accidentally running her over in the halls trying to get to class, or dropping pranks and such so close to her when they were trying to hit the Slytherin's. But she bit her tongue sadly, and took a seat away from them to look over her schedule.

Herbology with Hufflepuff, and Care of Magical Creatures with the Slytherin's this morning. Two of the subjects she was quite decent at, and outside to boot! Pleased with the thought of the warm September air outside, even with the sky being so dreary and cloudy today, Maisie slouched her shoulders contentedly, waiting for the clock to chime and for classes to begin. Owls began to fill the Hall, flying in from the window. Her Aunt's owl, a great horned Owl named Leta, dropped a parcel on her lap, along with a short stack of letters. Inside the parcel were a few tarts and small pies, some of them savory and made with pork while others were apple.

Tucking her letters away for later, she got up and went to her first class.

* * *

By lunch, Maisie's robes were singed from Blast-Ended Skrewts, but she was thoroughly satisfied with her work. Without any homework yet, she was free to indulge in a slightly larger serving of crisps than she usually would have, gobbling them down happily before her Divination class. _Perhaps another bad omen would be in my future for it_ , she thought with a bit of amusement. Divination was hardly very exact, certainly not precise enough to just teach and get the hang of, and she was far from having an honest to the gods inner eye like Trelawney supposedly had. But her dream that night of the Quidditch match, of the grey-tinted... thing, and the weirdest way that she responded to the sight of him worried her and her sound of mind brain.

It wasn't normal for anyone to dream of such things. And she wanted help to understand it.

She walked up the steps of the North Tower, following the sweet perfumes that always radiated from the room in heavy quantities. The windows were open that day, though the large scarves that acted quite like curtains flowed out and reached to brush against some of the round tables. With the room filled with light, it wasn't quite so heavy and chokingly thick and the sable-haired girl found this encouraging as she walked in past the tables to the front of the room, where Professor Trelawney, dressed in a long sleeved beige dress that looked too big for her very thin body, was standing and watching them all file inside. An exceeding amount of bangles and beads were draped across the Divination professor, and her large gold earrings had outlined hummingbirds on them. The birds would flap their wings occasionally, moving within their round frame.

Maisie took a few steps towards her, holding her book in her arms. "Um, Professor Trelawney?" She inquired lightly, and the woman's enlarged eyes darted to her, looking almost comical from their mass underneath her huge glasses.

"Oh my dear girl..." Trelawney started in her ethereally mist-filled voice, sounding as if her words were visible coming from her mouth, they'd most certainly be floating away into the air, letters coming apart from the words and going up towards the ceiling. Maisie cringed at her next words. "You have the most interesting aura just now. Be sure to avoid any red-bound books, they'll most definitely split you in two." Whistles from a few Slytherin boys made her cringe internally, and she stepped a bit closer to her, hoping that Trelawney would lower her volume of voice.

She shook her head at her quickly, her mouth pursed and her hand up to shush her Professor. "Please ma'm." The sable-haired girl whispered. "I just wanted to ask you a question."

Trelawney's eyes lit up, looking even bigger on her face. "Ask away my child."

Maisie took another step, avoiding the heating teakettle next to her. "It's just—well, um, I've been having this strange dream and I've been through the school books for an explanation for it, but there isn't anything specific enough in them and I really think that it wasn't just a dream I had and that it's something really important because, because I feel very oddly in them Professor!" She prattled much quieter, her hands fiddling around in the air in front of her as she explained this to Trelawney, who looked more and more interested as she continued on. "In them—the dreams—I feel more content and happy than I've ever felt in my real life. But what I'm dreaming of is... It's almost scary, and yet I don't even have the slightest bad feeling in them. And I'm wondering what... that means.." She trailed off, feeling more unsure of herself than ever.

It took at least two minutes, the longest two minutes of her life, for Trelawney to respond. "He may protect you, but who will protect others from him?" She murmured, so slight and quiet that Maisie hardly heard it. It struck a chord in her, but before she knew it, she blinked her massive eyes and looked behind her, now ignoring the girl in front of her completely.

"You are preoccupied, my dear." She said mournfully. The sable-haired girl turned around and saw Harry standing there with Ron Weasley, his shocking green eyes flickering from her to Trelawney, who kept talking. "My Inner Eye sees past your brave face to the troubled soul within. And I regret to say that your worries are not baseless. I see difficult times ahead for you, alas... most difficult... I fear the thing you dread will indeed come to pass... and perhaps sooner than you think..." The thin woman whispered.

Weasley rolled his eyes and Professor Trelawney swept away and settling into her large winged armchair by the fireplace before beginning the class.

Maisie settled into one of the higher tables, others moving around her and sitting at other tables. Throughout the class period, Trelawney spoke about the stars and astrology, her wispy voice coupled with the warm room causing a few of the students to drift off. While she tried to pay attention, the incense smell was becoming a bit too much for her head, irritating her highly as a headache formed, throbbing in her skull. She let out a tiny whimper, reacting badly to the small amount of pain. No one heard her, of course.

"A detailed analysis of the way the planetary movements in the coming moth will affect you, with reference to your personal chart." Trelawney snapped, catching her attention. She sounded more like McGonagall just now, her voice angry and stern. "I want it ready to hand in by next Monday, and no excuses!" The Professor said, waving her hand around in front of her. Most of the class groaned, besides Lavender Brown and the Patil twins.

Maisie got up from her place at her seat, tucking away her books and supplies as the heavy fumes continued to make her temple throb. The second she stepped out of the room though, the pain dissipated, as if it was never there in the first place. Her head felt forcibly comfortable, like someone had placed a silken hat over her head. A bit confounded, she walked down the stairs to dinner, she touched the crown of her head, feeling nothing, though the silken sensation was still very much there. A few girls bumped against her on the way down the steps towards the Great Hall, despite her attempt to push herself against the wall to avoid them.

A bit angry with those girls with their high sleek ponytails and pretty braids, she stomped down the rest of the stairs, the force making the bottoms of her feet sting.

When she reached the Hall, there was the sound of a very loud 'BANG!', causing her to yelp in surprise and grasp at the stone wall next to her. Someone had shouted something after the bang, which made many others jump.

There was Professor Moody, who had his wand pointed at a long, pure white ferret. He was directing it up and down, bouncing it around the hallway. It went up at least twelve feet before falling to the floor with a smack before going straight up again. The poor thing was squealing in pain, making Maisie cringe internally. Without a second thought, she dropped her things and hurried over to where the Defense teacher was bouncing the ferret, about to shout something in protest when Professor McGonagall beat her to it.

"Professor Moody!" She said, shocked as she swept down the staircase with her arms full of books to the chaos, green robes flowing behind her.

"Hullo Professor McGonagall." Moody greeted her calmly with an indication of his head. Maisie took a half a step forward, eyes on the ferret as it's cries continued to turn her stomach uncomfortably. She hated the way animals were treated in the Wizarding World. One summer when she had been little, her father had transfigured one of her shoe laces into a garden snake and had it hovering over her and following her with it. There was no real harm to her, as it was a tiny snake that wasn't at all poisonous, nor was it that angry, but it clearly hadn't appreciated being used in the way it was, especially after it was dropped onto the floor with a ' _CL-CLUMP-UMP_ '. So she put her hands up and caught the creature, ripping it out of the spell that Moody was using.

His bright blue bobbled eye darted to her, eying her angrily.

"What-what were you doing?" McGonagall asked him, her eyes flickering to the white ferret in Maisie's arms, which was now shaking horribly and tucking into her robes to avoid detection.

"Teaching." Moody replied, still staring intently at the hiding ferret, which she was trying to hold onto and keep it from going up under her sweater like it was clearly trying to. She pet along it's smooth back, trying to shush the creature. Then, her eyes shot up at the Professor's word. Teaching? Was this a student, had he turned someone into an ACTUAL ferret and bounced it around the Hall? A bit outraged herself, along with McGonagall, who had dropped her books and hurried down to her. She handed over the transfigured student, whom her Head of House waved her wand at and with a loud snapping sound, the ferret returned to being Draco Malfoy, his pale blonde hair flopped over his pink face.

Professor McGonagall almost shouted herself hoarse at Moody, who then approached Malfoy threateningly before grabbing hold of his bicep and dragging him away towards the Dungeons.

Maisie hesitantly brushed the white fur off of her robes, noticing that even after that, only two or three people really looked at her.

* * *

 **Second chapter, ahhhh.**

 **Q: Who was your favorite DADA teacher? Why?**

 **R &R**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks to the guest LilyPotterFan for being the first reviewer! You're awesome!**

 **For your question, this'll be a Voldemort/Maisie story, though he'll likely masquerade around with Tom Riddle's face, if just to confuse the hell out of Maisie, because he's a psychopath. And the only Harry/Maisie there'll be will just be the piece of Voldemort inside of him responding to her. I don't think Harry will ever actually be attracted to her in that way by himself.**

* * *

 **October, 1994**

 **Hogwarts, Scotland**

 ** _Silver Springs_**

* * *

Maisie felt like she was running for the Greek Games, her black leather shoes making very loud ' _CLACK CLUMPS!_ ' that echoed against the stone walls. The sound would have alerted every ghost and teacher if the sounds were being caused by anybody but her. Even those that were tailing her, sending bright pink and yellow curses her way weren't enough to get anybody to peer out from the classrooms and offices that lingered around the parts of the Castle she was running through. Panting, she skidded out into the closest hall, looking back for only a split second before diving into an empty classroom and locking the door behind her. She hadn't known that the Slytherins were waiting for any Gryffindor to pass by them when she wandered out from the Charms corridor. She was so used to being forgotten and overlooked, that when a hex rushed right past her head, she didn't know what to do but _run away_.

The group of Slytherin's had cackled and laughed when she started to run. They shouted that she was a cowardly Lion, and Maisie didn't rebut that. She just took out her willow wand and clutched it to her chest as she scampered away. She was quicker than they were, but they were clearly better at Dueling, considering the spells they were shooting at her. She couldn't duel to save her life, during her Second year when Professor Lockhart had been forced to practice with her because no one else wanted to, she couldn't even manage a simple Tickling charm. And right now, it certainly felt like they were aiming for her life, what with those terribly mean looks on their faces.

She slumped down onto her butt after a minute of counting the seconds, pressing her back against the locked door, the sable-haired girl squeezed her eyes shut, listening for them. Nothing, she didn't hear anything, she realized. Maisie furrowed her dark eyebrows, her dull green eyes peeking open just a sliver as she struggled to hear for footsteps, voices, anything that told her that they were passing by the room she was in... But it was dead silence.

Hesitantly, she moved away from the door, trying not to make any noise as she lowered her head down to the floor to peak underneath to check the crack under the door. Her eyes opened a bit wider, darting here and there to check for feet. It was like they had disappeared. Nervously, she pushed herself up to sitting on her legs, her mouth in a grimace as she grabbed the silver doorknob, using it to pull herself up to her feet. Taking a half-step back, Maisie considered the large, dark wooden door in front of her. She truly hadn't heard anything or saw anyone out there. And as weirdly intelligent that the majority of the Slytherin House managed to be, they certainly wouldn't have gone dead silent when they were sure they'd cornered her. They would have been merry and cruelly gleeful.

Frowning, she unlocked the door and slowly pushed it open. But standing there, was the last person she was expecting to see—Albus Dumbledore. The Headmaster was peering down at her from underneath his half-moon spectacles, his blue eyes, which were much too lightly colored to belong to someone naturally, looked a bit stormy. Seeing him standing there, in a garb that looked like it was made up of her Great Grandmother's curtains, sent a hateful jolt through her heart.

"Hello Miss Martin-Moors." He greeted her calmly, looking unaffected by how startled she was.

Maisie actually put her hand over her heart, her fingers digging into her uniform right where the embroidered lion was resting. "Sir." She returned quietly, tilting her chin down, unconsciously avoiding his imploring gaze.

The elderly man in front of her didn't look as impressive as he supposedly was, she thought. Sure he was tall, much taller than she was, seeing that he was a man while she had just turned fifteen and the crown of her head only lingered at below his shoulder, but that was the only relatively obvious powerful thing about him, because he continuously looked and dressed as if he were Merlin's tacky cousin, in glittering, light colored robes that shimmered shapes and undefined objects across the fabrics. His beard was pure white in color and reached down to his stomach, but tied in the beard was a hair tie made of two glittering, round stones that were curled and wrapped around in each other to remain in place. She recognized it, how could she not when every girl in the school had the same thing in her dresser? It was up there with bobby pins.

Amused, she thought of him putting white-inked bobby pins in his hair in the mornings.

"This is certainly a curious place to be spending your dinner time." He said, his voice light as he walked inside of the spare classroom she had been hiding in, looking around before leaning against one of the desks in a weirdly youthful way that was almost a bit uncomfortable to watch. Hell, Maisie had been fairly vexed ever since he'd said her name, for no reason other than his presence and the suspicious way he was looking at her. It made her legs tingle, as if she was preparing once more to dart away from yet another strange situation.

Covering her bewilderment by flickering her eyes around the nearly barren classroom (which was only really filled with old school desks that had carvings and doodles on them. Nothing truly of importance.), Maisie then settled her narrow shoulders down. "I was just about to leave sir. I was..." She tried to think of a reason for being there without letting out her running spree to him. "Um.."

"Oh no need to tell me, my dear." The Headmaster said to her, pushing himself up from the desk before smoothing out his beard. He took a few steps towards the door, his long robes trailing over the floor. "However, if you'd like an escort, I would be happy to take you to the Great Hall." He said to her pleasantly. She could imagine the voice of her Mother's Mother, whispering harshly in her ear to accept, it was only polite. And even if it was school, it could still somehow damage their name should she be seen wandering about the school without another accompanying her. Hesitantly, Maisie accepted his invitation and put her hand on his arm.

"Tell me." Dumbledore began genially as they strolled down towards the Grand Staircase. A plumpy, brown toad was sitting on it, croaking. ("Oh hello Trevor!" The old Headmaster said to the toad.) "How are you fairing in your classes Miss Martin-Moors? Enjoying them this term?" He inquired as he led her down the staircase like she was his closest friend and confidant, displaying her to a ballroom of people when really this was their first conversation and the hall at the end of the staircase was very nearly empty. He was an odd sort of bloke.

"Alright, sir. But... Professor Moody is—Well, he's rather _intense_." Maisie was being more kind than some of the other student's. Many of them called him bat-shit crazy, while the others were in awe at how much he was telling them, leaving nothing to wonder about. It was a bit much for the young Gryffindor though, the new Defense teacher really rather spooked her. The last time Moody had smashed his fist down on his desk shouting 'Constant vigilance!' in class, she almost peed herself. What kind of courageous lion was she?

Dumbledore chuckled to himself as they turned the corner. "Yes, Alastor always has been a bit profound." He was also using a much kinder word for what Alastor Moody was.

He left her at the Great Hall's doors with a long stem full of cerulean blue bells that he had conjured up with a dramatic wave of his wand. After the Headmaster strode away, humming a light tune to himself, Maisie found herself wanting to throw up her lunch.

Puzzled at just how much she... hated? Disliked her Professor. Never in her entire Hogwarts career had she ever hated one of her teachers. Not Snape when he took away unnecessary points from her house. Not when Sprout showed disregard for her raised hand in favor of Hermione Granger's. She didn't even hate her previous Defense teachers, as insane and dangerous they all were. Quirrel never bothered her (though he did have quite a staring problem when she was in his class. It was either he had blinked too much or not at all most of the time), Maisie had a crush on Lockhart like every girl in the school, just because he was attractive, yet very untalented. And Lupin had been a _werewolf_ and yet he'd been the most interesting of all her teachers! So why was she seeing red now?

"Mmh." She turned to look at the doors to the Great Hall. The sounds of chatting, of laughter was audible even behind the massively thick doors. Had the Slytherins who had been chasing her returned to their friends inside when they saw Dumbledore roaming the Charms corridor? They'd likely forgotten all about her and discovered that dinner had started. The corners of her pink lips turned down as she listened to the sounds from the Hall. There were friends inside there. Sisters, brothers, fiances and colleagues.

She sighed out of her mouth before gingerly pushing herself away from the door. Maisie ignored her rumbling stomach and turned away from the Hall.

/~/

Her next Defense class with Alastor Moody was one of the most frightening classes she'd had.

To the entire classes utter and complete surprise, he'd announced with a growl-like tone of voice that he would be putting each of them under the Imperius curse, to demonstrate both it's power and to see if any of them would have the ability to resist it's influence. If his announcement of this was supposed to scare them, he'd certainly succeeded, as most of the students looked horrified. Maisie cast a worried look towards the front of the class. She had been shoved in the middle of the line, right behind a tall blonde girl.

Granger had been the only one to try to protest, but she was then immediately shot down by Moody, who said the order to teach them came straight from Dumbledore.

Her cowardliness bared it's ugly head as the frightening Professor went down the line of students. He made Dean hop around the room while singing the national anthem. Lavender Brown, a girl with dirty blonde ringlets who had a lilac colored bandanna tied in her hair, was forced to act as a squirrel, bringing her pale knuckles up to her mouth and pretending to groom her fingernails with her teeth. Then, sandy-haired Neville did a bout of impressive acrobatics, bending his slightly overweight body around the room in a truly unnatural way.

With each student that was forced to step forward, Maisie turned around and stepped back, creating a large gap between herself and the girl in front of her. She didn't know that Moody's bright blue eye was staring right at her, watching her actions, while his other eye was observing the rest of the group.

"Potter," He growled. "You next."

Potter, with his wild hedgehog-like hair, stepped forward, and was placed under the spell. She didn't really want to watch, but it was hard not to look up when the boy rammed himself against one of the desks, breaking it down and falling in the pile of wood. It startled several people in the class, who had all been expecting him to do as the others had done, like jump around or do something mildly embarrassing. But Moody, no, Moody looked angrily excited.

"Now that's more like it!" He'd snarled, gesturing with a massive arm towards where Potter had fallen over in the remnants of the desk. He was rubbing his kneecaps as he crawled back up to standing. "Look at that, you lot! ...Potter fought! He fought it, and damn near beat it! We'll try that again, Potter, and the rest of you, pay attention—watch his eyes, that's where you'll see it—very good, Potter, very good indeed! They'll have trouble controlling _you_!" Maisie hated this.

Moody was putting Potter through the Imperius curse again, and again, he'd smashed down onto the ground, onto his knees. And then again, and one more time after that until he'd finally just stood stock-still, refusing the curse altogether. The class looked impressed at Harry's resilience through the Unforgivable being placed on him. He was clearly made of stronger stock than they were, and Maisie was dearly relieved that the class ended after Potter's success. She had gotten off scot-free because of him, never having to be placed under the Professor's wand.

The rest of her short week was spent getting mountains of work from each of her Professors. O.W.L.S. were next school year, and her teachers thought it prudent to exaggerate their importance. Snape in particular had been especially cruel, hinting heavily at poisoning a select few of them (as he looked down his hooked nose towards a trembling Longbottom) after handing out work about antidotes with a flick of his pitch black wand. By dinner that night, she was very much swamped with dozens of papers and homeworks. Only some of them were due in the next week, the rest long term, but the sheer amount was overwhelming. Maisie wasn't even very good at most of these subjects, earning solid A's and occasional E's, the rare Outstanding's occurring only when she was very invested in the topic. Snape once gave her an 'O' for her knowledge of the Shrinking Solution, but she was sure that he'd only done that because he'd forgotten who she was by name.

At dinner, she ate two servings of mash and a thick pork chop covered in grilled onions and drenched in it's own juices. As usual, she was alone in her own bubble at the table, so she had open reign over the dishes in front of her, while the rest of her House grouped together at the ends, or at other tables. Lavender Brown and Parvarti Patil had gone over to join Parvarti's twin at the Ravenclaw table. There was a lot of space around her for her to relax.

At least, until someone had the Slytherin table saw her as easy prey and had sent a spell her way. Her face smashed into her mash, the potatoes finding themselves up her nose and inside her eyes, making them sting and water terribly. It caused the fluffy white mash to fling out to either side of her, hitting the shoulder of Angelina Johnson, who yelped in surprise, shoving herself against Katie Bell to avoid the splattering of white.

"You'll pay for that Malfoy!" Someone shouted. It wasn't for Maisie. Someone was saying that for Angelina, or one of the other's the potatoes had hit after her forced face plant. She scrambled for her napkin, wiping the mash hurriedly off of her face and out of her eyes. To her horror, blood was spurting out of her nose and all over her plate. Her nose felt like it was on fire. Tears running down her face and likely puffing up her eyes, she covered her nose with her hand, sticky red blood caking to her palm, the sable-haired girl ran out of the hall, her blood trailing behind her on the stone floor for Filch to clean up.

* * *

"Ouch." Maisie mumbled tearfully, reacting terribly to the pain of Madam Pomfrey checking diagnostics over her nose.

The Madam tutted and began even more gently running her wand over her nose. "Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear..." She fussed. "You don't react well to pain do you?"

The young Gryffindor shook her head 'no', her mouth in a grimace. She'd never had very high pain tolerance, even bumping against a table left her hip made her whimper. It was pathetic of her, proving furthermore that she really did not belong in the House of the brave. But, as if she knew what she was thinking, the Matron huffed and turned away, retrieving a potion from the large glass cabinet against the wall. By the shade of it, she knew it was a Pain Relief potion, and it sent her sinking in the bed she was sitting on with guilt.

"Now, I want you to drink this. You won't quite enjoy the feeling of me fixing your nose." Pomfrey told her, in more of an order than it was a suggestion. So she downed it, trying to ignore the milky texture of it on her palate. Once it was down, it was only a few seconds until the pain in her nose was gone. The hot feeling remained there, as well as the blood that had swelled up on the bridge.

" _Episkey._ " The Matron cast the spell on her nose with a sharp jolt of her wand. The feeling and sound of her nose going CLICK, made her gut churn. Blood drenched down her face, onto her lap, which Pomfrey easily vanished away, along with cleaning the front of her robes which also had dried blood covered it. It was a horribly uncomfortable sensation, and it made her want to raise her hands up and cover her face, but the Healer in front of her waved her hands away until her nose had stopped bleeding with another incantation by Pomfrey, and the redness that had been swelling there faded away.

"Well, you're good as gold now, Miss..." She trailed off.

"Martin-Moors." Maisie provided for her dully, her shoulders narrowed and drawn into herself. The Pain Relieving Potion could only do so much for her comfort. It certainly couldn't get rid of the throbbing in her nostrils.

"Yes, well. You're all well and good now, so you may return to your dormitory." She scrambled away from her, clearly embarrassed as her sharp cheeks were now a bit red. The Matron must have thought she knew every student by name and was now escaping in through her glass Office door. Maisie raised her long fingered hand up to her face, feeling her nose. It no longer held a bump, but was now curved and as sweetly upturned as always. _Like a pig's snout,_ she thought as she jumped off of the tall bed onto her feet.

She felt a little downtrodden as she returned to the Common Room, saying the password to the Fat Lady (who jumped when she spoke, despite looking straight at her when she approached) and looking around for a corner in the bustling room to lick her wounds at. Eugenia would still be in her bed, likely running amok in her bed sheets and creating trouble for the House Elves in the morning.

"Um..." Someone murmured close to her. She didn't acknowledge it, only took a few steps forward, looking off towards the large portrait of a much younger Professor McGonagall, who had a table and two chairs underneath the golden frame. Then, she turned her head and saw Granger there, standing off to the side of her, with an uncomfortable expression on her face. So Maisie took a large step away from her, trying to get out of the other girl's way. But Granger only gingerly followed her after her, clutching a book in her hands about House elves.

"Wait, no! I was just... Well would you like to sit with us?" She asked her, gesturing behind her to the small couch in front of the fire that had one of the Weasley's and Potter sitting there. Longbottom was in the cushy looking armchair next to them, looking hopelessly down at his Potions book and scraps of parchment. Maisie's look of disbelief must have embarrassed the bushy-haired girl, because she turned a pink color after a few counted seconds. "Why?" She finally asked, fidgeting in place. She never knew what to do with her arms except hide them behind her back or press them tightly against her sides. Right now, she was doing the latter, her knuckles moving and rubbing against each other, as if she were turning a ring around on her finger.

"Um.. Well, I just thought you'd like to?" Hermione asked, unsure of herself. By now, their muttered conversation got the attention of Granger's mates, Potter and Weasley peering over the back of the couch curiously. But when the Boy-who-Lived's shocking green eyes widened with recognition, Maisie shook her head furiously.

"No, no! I have things to do... Sorry." She lied, backing away from the other girl towards the girl's staircase. She escaped them, going up to the fourth level and ducking inside of her room. It was empty, except for her, roommates likely all downstairs chatting away about the Tournament and boys and whatever it is that they gossiped over. If she was a normal girl with normal friends, maybe she would have done the same.

Her toiletries were scoped up from her trunk, and she hid inside of the bathroom. It was littered with fallen bobby pins, hair ties, bandannas and beauty products. By morning it'd be clean again, so Maisie didn't consider cleaning it.

Instead she locked the door and stripped. The girl's bathroom was only so large, with just one toilet and three sinks side by side, a large mirror covering sets of cabinets underneath against the wall. Inside of the cabinets were everything you'd think a fifteen year old girl would require. Several cases of potions were on top, one labeled as 'Birth Control', another as 'Pain Relief', 'Morning After Draught' and the final one was tinted yellow and were labeled as 'Emergency Only-After taking, head immediately to the Infirmary'. Then, underneath were a variety of short brushes and tubes, put there by Granger likely, because they were clearly Muggle made.

Then Lavender's variety of hair-care potions. Parvarti's skin softening paste. Ear cleaners, tweezers.

Smartly, Maisie kept all of her toiletries hidden in her things, because one of the most common fights between the Fourth Year girls was one of them using someone else's things. Lavender had gotten into a considerably weepy fight with Granger after she thought she had used her hair straightening Solution, despite the obvious evidence of Granger's continuously frizzy hair. Fights happened far too often, with far too little time in between, she mused as she hung her night gown and robe up on a hook on the wall, her towel floating up in the air, kept there with a spell.

Her dirty clothes were tossed in the large wicker laundry basket by the sink, and she stepped into the bath, where a shower head was built into the wall across from it. Hot water poured out, running over her, making her flinch. Her skin turned a bright pink from the heat, but she didn't turn it down. It was fitting to have the heat at least wash away the day she'd had. She rested her head against the wall, the too-hot water rolling down between her shoulder blades and down her back. The rumbling water felt nice, even though it burned quite terribly.

"At least I can't hear them anymore..." Maisie mumbled tiredly to herself. All she could hear was the water, it hitting her skin, it rushing down the porcelain and down the drain with a gurgling sound. After what felt like hours of just letting the hot water beat against her upper back, the gurgling sound of water turned into gentle, low sounding hisses that were smooth sounding in her ears. But then the feeling of water was replaced by the feeling of something sliding up her inner thigh, going higher and higher.. It made her jolt back away from the wall harshly, narrowly avoiding slipping in the tub by clasping at the wall desperately, expecting to find some kind of snake in the tub with her.

But the only thing staring back at her was her own reflection in the shiny tub.

* * *

 **Omg, what was that? and whats going on?**

 **ahhhh**

 **R &R**


	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks SweetSouthernSass, Monciak and Arowanaax3 for reviewing! :D**

* * *

 **October, 1994**

 **Hogwarts, Scotland**

 ** _The Guests to Hogwarts School_**

* * *

"Hurry up now, hurry!" Professor McGonagall snapped, getting all of the Gryffindors to the Entrance Hall. They were about to welcome the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students to the school, and apparently that required every single student's presence.

Maisie adjusted her black witches hat on her head. All of them were in full-blown uniform, from their shirts tucked in and their sweater's clean and unwrinkled. They even wore their black robes. Hers of which dragged along the floor slightly behind her heels. If they were any longer, someone would have stepped on them and scuffed up her nice cloak. She stood in front of Seamus and Dean, two boys who were much taller than she was, and whose chattering was silenced with a stern look from their Head of House, who looked a bit more frazzled than usual. Clearly the Tournament was already adding to the Professor's collection of grey hairs already.

With all of the hustle and bustle that day, all of her classes shorter than usual, and Professor Snape seemingly much more distracted that he usually was (she wasn't sure that anybody else had noticed, what with his usual snapping comments and cruelty, but she certainly found it oddly important), Maisie had had no real time to actually think about anything, or even to hear her own thoughts lately.

"Follow me, please." McGonagall said. "First years in he front... No pushing..." They all filed down the front steps and lined up in front of the castle. That suppertime had a pleasant chill, and the sky was clear from clouds. It was reaching dusk, the sun already setting beneath the tall mountains surrounding the castle and the blue sky was darkening to a navy color. Even the moon looked almost translucent, a bright white that shined just over the Forbidden Forest. It was a nice scenery. But there was no sign of the other school's approaching yet, no dark figures emerging from the Forest or from the trail that led to Hogsmeade.

Then, from the back row, Professor Dumbledore called out something from where he was standing by the other Professors. What he said was hard to hear, but she assumed it had something to do with the other schools, because then something remarkably huge was then hurtling it's way across the sky over the Forbidden Forest, getting larger and larger the closer it got to them. It was a magnificent carriage, with delicate curves of metal over the base in a fairly floral pattern. It was a light blue color that gleamed even lighter from the shine of the moon, and it was being lead by several giant winged horses that were headed right for them.

The front row of students took several running steps away from where the carriage landed with loud clicks of the wheels and the screeching of wheels. The horses leading the carriages looked big enough for Hagrid to ride comfortably on top of, they were so enormous. The carriage stopped, and a boy came out, unfolding a set of golden stairs. And then one of the largest women she had ever seen stepped out. She was most definitely part giant, and was a very strong looking woman who wore a black, silky dress that reached to the floor, shining and twinkling opals around her neck. The woman looked around at the crowd with inky black eyes, seeming fairly weary.

Then, applause came from the crowd, and startled out of her staring by it, Maisie quickly followed their example. Students who were all wearing light blue silk robes had filed out of the carriage, all of them shivering and holding their arms to keep their warmth, none of them looking very used to the Scotland climate, or at least familiar with a heating charm. Then, after a moment of speaking with the Headmaster, the Beauxbaton's Headmistress and her students headed inside to the Great Hall, the large lines of students parting for them, herself being pushed into as the person in front of her stepped back onto her feet.

She made a noise of pain, jumping back and trying to create some distance between herself and everyone around her. Her disturbance caused a her fellow Gryffindors to look down and her and glare heatedly at the distraction as the rest of them looked out for Durmstrang's arrival. She raised her arms up, withering underneath their stares as she forced herself to back out of the carefully done lines and away from her House, who obviously didn't want her there.

It wasn't soon after that Igor Karkaroff, a tall man covered in warm silver furs who was the Headmaster for Durmstrang arrived, and finally the rest of them got to return to the Great Hall for the Halloween feast. Maisie, unlike so many other purebloods at Hogwarts, wasn't all that miffed at not being able to return home for the celebration of Samhain. It wasn't that she didn't enjoy the festival, rather, she didn't have enough family to celebrate it with, and they couldn't celebrate it at home because of them living in a Muggle neighborhood (surrounded by heavy charms of course), and least not the bonfire portion.

She let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding once inside of the Great Hall. Maisie sat at the Gryffindor table, like the rest of her house. There was far too much excitement in the room, and as great as this all was, she mostly just wanted to be sick. There were just too many people close to her and bumping into her and there were so many people breathing at once!

Then, Ron Weasley pushed into her. She didn't know if he'd done it on purpose or not, but to her it simply didn't matter in that moment.

Maisie picked up one of the golden forks in front of her and slammed it prongs-first into the table, next to his hand. It wasn't even that close to him, and yet he had yelped in surprise. Words had been at the tip of her tongue, something wrathful and stinging to make him regret bumping her, but when she saw his stock-still and frightened expression, it faded away like it was never even there in the first place. And now, Potter, Granger and the Weasley twins both were staring at her. Only Potter's hand was up and rubbing his forehead, as if it hurt.

"You're such a rude bastard, Ron!" One of the twins then declared after a few counted moments before he reached over the table and began shoving his brother around like he had been doing to those around him. The heaviness subsided with that, especially now that the attention was now on the three Weasley's bickering amongst themselves. But then, Potter still hadn't removed his eyes from her. She drew within herself, mortified, holding onto the corners of her robes as if she were just as cold as the Beauxbatons students were, trying to avoid his stare. Thank Merlin that she was so easily forgotten, because all three Weasley's didn't take a second look at her now.

Luckily, the Professors had just begun to arrive, and were now at the head table. All of those from the French school had stood until Madam Maxine had taken her seat in the massive chair that was set out for her by Filch.

Dumbledore remained standing in front of his massive chair. "Good evening, ladies and gentleman, ghosts and—most particularly—guests." He said, his arms out as he beamed at those who were sitting out in the hall, foreign students and Hogwarts alike. He was wearing an extravagant set of robes, they were a deep set of blue and had pale flowers printed on them. "I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable." One of the girls from the Ravenclaw table, holding a scarf around her head, scoffed derisively.

"The Tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast." He continued. "I now invite you all to eat, drink and make yourselves at home!" It was only then that the Headmaster swept down into his chair.

Then, foods appeared on the long tables as they always did during feasts, with only a few noticeable differences. There were now more foreign foods set up, with an orange broth dish that had plenty of mussels, clams and pink shrimp that was giving off a fragrant aroma. There were also a few bottles of what looked like wine set out.

Maisie took a golden ladle and poured herself some of the seafood dish before inspecting the wine, which was in a shiny clay bottle, making it impossible to tell where it was from. With a hesitant sniff at the bottle, she then moved it away from her. It was red wine, and it smelled so dastardly and expensively nice that she didn't dare pour herself a glass of it for fear of wasting it. Then, someone came up behind her and gently prodded her on the shoulder.

"Bonjour, excuse me, are you done with ze bouillabaisse?" Maisie whipped around, looking to see one of the Beauxbatons students behind her. She was much taller than she was, with very light, almost glowing blonde hair and a very pretty round face. She was pointing one delicately french manicured finger at the dish in front of her.

"Oh, yes, of course." She said, gesturing her hand to the broth. Next to her, the Weasley boy was gapping ridiculously, staring at the girl with a wide-eyed look on his long face.

"Merci." The girl said, moving forward and picking it up before walking away, leaving behind a light floral scent as she left back towards the Ravenclaw table.

Maisie turned back to the soup in front of her, plucking a few rolls of bread from the basket that was floating up and down the table to dip it in. Weasley was making a horrible choking noise, which she truly tried to ignore, but he just spoke so loudly that it was really hard not to notice.

"She's a _Veela_!" He croaked out like a toad.

"Oh no she isn't!" Granger said smartly from across from them. "I don't see anyone else gaping at her like flaming idiots."

The sable haired girl ripped apart her light roll of bread, soaking it in the orange broth of the soup before eating it. Then, she reached for her wine goblet, with was filled only 1/4th of the way with the dark red alcohol. Maisie wavered in her movement, looking cautiously at the goblet. Hadn't she..? She didn't pour herself any wine. She put it back because it was so dark and expensive smelling. But now she had some, right in her goblet. With a hesitant sniff, she was definitely sure that this was the same wine too. Had someone poured it for her?

That wasn't possible though, no one was focused on her, and she would have noticed someone raise up that tall wine pitcher next to her.

She shifted in her seat, pulling her hand away from the goblet quickly, turning back to her bowl. Food and wine couldn't be conjured up from nowhere, they'd have to be changed from something else. You could turn water into wine with a spell, but Maisie was positive that nothing was in her goblet yet. The pumpkin juice was too far down the table for her to reach, she was waiting for it to get closer.

The second course arrived, a series of puddings and desserts all around them, each of them looking more inviting than the last, but she didn't touch any of them. Her stomach growled, upset with her for not finishing her dinner. The tall towers of croquembouche that were covered in spun golden lines of sugar were beginning to look more and more inviting.

Maisie waited it out, and all of the plates were wiped clean soon after.

"The moment has come," Dumbledore said, standing up once more. "The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket. Just to clarify the procedure which we will be following this year. But firstly, let me introduce, for those who do not know them, Mr. Bartemius Crouch, the Head of the Department of International Magical Co-Operation and Mr. Ludo Bagman, the Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports." There was some applause, especially for Bagman, who used to be a famous Beater.

The Headmaster continued on to introducing the Tournament, and Filch then came forward with a large wooden chest that had jewels embedded all over it. It looked very old, older than many of the things that were in her family vault.

"As you know, three champions compete in the tournament." He said calmly, and Maisie blinked, not realizing that she had been blanking out while watching the bejeweled trunk come up close to the front of the room "One from each of the participating schools. They will be marked on how well they perform each of the Tournament tasks and the champion with the highest total after task three will win the Triwizard Cup. The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector... The Goblet of Fire."

* * *

Maisie, unlike so many others in the school, took this Saturday for herself. Almost everyone would be at the Entrance Hall, gawking at the Goblet of Fire and at the golden ring surrounding it. The entire rest of the school would be practically barren, and she was going to revel in it.

She leisurely pulled one of her warmer wool dresses over her pale-pink full slip before pulling up her white crotched socks, stretching to clip them to her garter belt. Her legs must have gotten longer again, Maisie noticed. Nobody else was her dorm besides herself and Eugenia (who was sitting on top of her Gryffindor cardigan at the end of her bed), and she just felt so _good_ about this morning. Maybe that was odd, since she'd felt so unusual yesterday at the Feast. Stabbing the table next to Weasley's hand, the wine appearing in her goblet. But now it was like a weight was lifted from her shoulders, like she'd just completed all of the things on her to-do list in just a few hours and had nothing else to do.

Maisie smiled contentedly, plucking her old hair brush from her dresser and running it through her hair till it laid straight and nice. She even used a few brown bobby pins to set the front of her hair back neatly. She slipped into her leather flats before retrieving one of her fresh cardigans out of her trunk and pulling it over herself. It wasn't thin, but then if it wasn't warm enough, she could always use a heating charm, she figured smartly as she tucked her wand away in her dress pocket.

She wandered down to the Common room, which was empty besides a few first and second years who were curled up in the couch in front of the fireplace. She didn't linger long, only took a brief look at one of the Grandfather clocks for the time before leaving.

Maisie passed through delightfully empty halls, down empty staircases, and passed the crowded Entrance hall before ducking inside the massive doors of the dining room. Tea was poured and given the perfect amount of sugar and cream (one cube of sugar and none), and she indulged in an almond horn after finishing off a bowl of cereal.

She hummed pleasantly as the teapot filled with chamomile rose up from it's spot on the table and delicately poured into her teacup. Steam rose up from her cup and Maisie put out her long pointer finger, moving it around in circles. Without using a spell, the steam contoured to her will and began to make shapes. It flowed into the shape of a butterfly, flapping it's wings slowly as it dredged around her teacup. Then it morphed into a small bird that tipped it's beak into her tea before being rocked back up to standing. And then again, into her teacup. A very happy smile was on her face as she swirled her fingertip at the steam.

The bird, which had been flying around her head then, slowly dissipated as her tea cooled to a comfortable temperature.

After finishing her tea, Maisie decided to visit the library with the intent of borrowing a Charms book. Maybe even take a stroll around outside, even if it was a bit cool. She liked the way the leaves looked, all golden and orange with age. Sometimes she really wanted to know how to draw, just so she could capture the look of the trees, or even just that she had a camera on hand.

The library was just the same as the Great Hall. Virtually empty. There was no trouble to be had as she headed into the Charms section. She pulled a medium sized text that read on the front ' _Charms and Transfiguration for the Interested Participant'._ Inside were all sorts of Charms that weren't taught in her classes. They were all simple and seen as not very useful, but they were all very interesting. There was a spell to make a flower sprout legs and begin to sing. There was a charm that would make a stone turn into a very convincing diamond. Maisie held the text to her chest as she headed off towards the Librarian.

Madam Pince checked the book out to her after a warning to return it in the exact condition she found it in.

On her way back downstairs, towards the courtyard, she noted how many people had begun to linger around the Goblet. The entire group of students from Beauxbatons were there, putting their names into the blue fire. She didn't linger there long, only cast a short look in it's direction. But apparently, this was long enough for Potter to turn around and notice her.

She hadn't even known he was there at all, not until he turned. He didn't do anything to approach her though. Only raised up his hand in a half wave. Weasley turned around to see who his friend was waving at. He looked right over her, instead going towards Madam Maxine, who was in a marvelous deep green day-dress, striding with two blonde girls who looked even smaller next to their Headmistress. Maisie took this opportunity to scamper away, out through the cool, foggy courtyard. It was still a bit early for a stroll. It was at least ten o'clock, and the Halloween mists were still settled in around the lawns.

It was beautiful though, the morning light leading her to an old, skillfully crafted wooden bench. There were dozens of carvings in the bench, initials and notches, hearts surrounding a few names. She'd sat here before. Her parents had carved their own initials into it. They'd kissed on this bench at least eighteen years ago. The 'H.M + M.M' were somewhere next to her. The sable-haired girl rubbed her fingers along the many carvings, moving along with it's direction, and then how it merged into another carving.

Maisie practiced spells and charms until lunch time. The carnations that she conjured and made to dance fell back, their green limbs withering away. She got up to leave, brushing the back of her skirt to get rid of whatever might have been there.

"Martin-Moors." A voice growled from behind her. She whipped around, banging her right knee against the bench as she slapped her hand over her heart. It was Professor Moody standing there, leaning heavily on his chunky wooden cane, both his normal and fake eye scrutinizing her as she clutched at her knee and the front of her dress.

"You scared me." She said quietly, taking a step away from the intimidating man. He wasn't particularly tall for a man, but he was unmistakably large, and he towered over her slight, 5'5 frame.

Moody raised up his large chin, looking down at her. She thought he'd bark out something at her, along the lines of 'constant vigilance' followed by ordering her to take out her wand. But rather than any of that, to her surprise, he took out his wand and pointed it at her leg. The throbbing in her knee stopped, without him uttering a spell at all.

Boggled, Maisie lifted up her dress to look in the holes of her crotched socks. There was no pain, not at all, there wasn't even any smudges of dirt there...

"Come with me." He ordered gruffly, turning around and heading off towards the castle, limping on his cane.

/~/

She shifted on the uncomfortable chair she was in, it making slight creaking sounds with each movement she made. Moody was bustling around, making a pot of tea. He'd asked her what kind she liked and Maisie had turned a brilliant red color and murmured that it didn't matter. He grunted in reply and flicked his wand.

A dark green tea cup and saucer floated on top of his desk, along with a cracked white one that looked like it had been heated too long when it was made, as the cracks were underneath the glaze.

Moody's office was full of all kinds of devices and gadgets. They were to sense secrecy and lies. There was a massive glass that had the flickering visions of people floating in it, their eyes all colored a haunting black from their irises to where the whites of their eyes should have been. She tore her eyes away from the glass, not liking the way the people floated inside like ghosts. She looked at the shelves, which had books all relating to Defense and deception on them. There was even a few figurines of dueling wizards on the shelves. They would bow to each other, take three steps and then waved their wands in protective stances.

"Here we are, lass." Moody said brusquely, turning around to set down the tray with the cracked old teapot steaming on top of it. Maisie recognized the smell. He'd made Earl Grey.

"Thank you, sir." She said demurely as he poured the tea. He'd put a plate that was stacked with brightly colored macarons there as well as the sugar dish and small jug of cream. He looked up at her and asked if she wanted any sugar and she nodded. One spoonful. He didn't put any sugar in his, only milk.

She took the cup, holding it in a much lighter way than Moody was holding his. It was no wonder his dishes had cracks in them, he was holding his cup so tightly. The slight girl was trying hard not to notice his eye swiveling over her. It was so disconcerting that she had to start counting the panes in the window. She'd done so twice before the Professor spoke again.

"How're you doing in your other classes?" He asked tersely. "Good? _Happy_ with your term so far?"

Maisie set down her teacup gingerly as she nodded her head. "Oh, yes, I suppose so. The Tournament has really taken the Wizarding World by storm, hasn't it?" She asked, ignoring his questions by putting forth one of her own. He looked oddly disgruntled by her avoidance.

"Yes. It has. The First Task will be having a very large turn out." Moody told her, eating a bright yellow macaron that didn't look like it had any business at all being held or eaten by the man. It was so girly and fragile that she expected him to crush it in his hand and crumble it into his mouth. Then, he continued, "We've had constant owls since the Feast yesterday night. All of them requesting to attend. Rita Skeeter." He scoffed, though it sounded quite like a harsh gurgle. Clearly, he didn't have that great an opinion on the Skeeter woman, Maisie noticed. "They're sending her to do the interviews for the Prophet. Heyah!" He shouted out his laugh scornfully. "They might as well have sent a three-headed hyena! It would even do it's own laugh track." Moody growled.

She hadn't expected him to go off on a tangent, nor did she expect to burst out in giggles at the end of it. Maisie slapped her hand over her mouth to hide her laughter when he shot her a sharp look.

"Sorry." The young Gryffindor mumbled, picking up her tea cup and trying to hide behind it.

"Hush, you." Moody grumbled, putting his cup down with a bit of force. "Go on now. You'll be wanting to getting to lunch before it's all gone."

"Um, yessir..."

* * *

 **yep.**

 **its filling in kinda, and fake-moody-actually-barty-crouch-junior will be a big part for the rest of Goblet of Fire. You can guess why probably.**

 **R &R you guys, I love feedback!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A special thanks to wafflescoco andel9507 for reviewing!**

* * *

 **Samhain, 1994**

 **Hogwarts, Scotland**

 _ **The Hogwarts Champions**_

* * *

The Halloween feast felt so much more tedious than it usually did. Maybe because this was their second Feast in two days, or perhaps because the Champions would be chosen tonight. Either way, everyone around her was shifting, squirming, all impatient and wanting to skip the marvelous feast and get straight to the selection. Maisie laid her cheek in her palm, looking at the Staff table like her classmates were. She had made sure to sit near the Hall's doors, far away from the front where the Goblet stood in front of Dumbledore's chair.

Everyone was gathered at the front, watching eagerly once all of their plates were wiped clean and golden once more. Dumbledore got to his feet. All the lights, except those from the large lanterns hovering above them, were extinguished. Maisie wished then, in an oddly whimsical moment for her, that the puddings would return. This seemed like a moment that required caramel covered popcorn to enjoy, or other such sweets like that. Maybe a few Ice Mice? But then, they usually reminded her far too much of Eugenia for her to actually eat them.

"Well, the Goblet is almost ready to make it's decision." Dumbledore said. She yawned, covering her mouth with her hand. "I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions' names are called, I would ask them please to come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table and go through the door into the next chamber, where they will be receiving their first instructions."

Maisie looked towards the Ravenclaw table, where all of the silk-clad students looked intense, some of them clinging to each other and holding hands tightly. Two boys there in particular looked panicked as they held onto each other's arms.

Then, the flames inside of the Goblet turned a brilliant red. Sparks flew out of it, it grew upwards, and then it spurted out a burnt piece of parchment. The entire room gasped in surprise and excitement. Dumbledore caught it, and held it far away from him, reading it somehow through his half-moon glasses. "The Durmstrang champion will be Viktor Krum." He read loudly. At the news, the Slytherin table roared with applause. Maisie saw Viktor Krum, a burly, dark-haired boy rise up from the table and approach Dumbledore. He shook his hand before gliding past the Staff table and through the door there.

The Goblet died down, before once more firing to a deep red color, spurting out another piece of parchment, this time looking much like a doily of some kind. It turned out to belong to Fleur Delacour, the very pretty blonde girl who'd tapped her on the shoulder at the last Feast. She stood from the Ravenclaw table, looking every part a proud Triwizard champion as she strode over to Dumbledore, her light colored hair flowing out behind her. The other Beauxbatons students looked horrified, two girls having burst into tears in their seats.

All that was left was the Hogwarts champion now. And the entire Hall had gone silent with anticipation.

The Goblet went red once more. Dumbledore grasped the paper. "The Hogwarts champion is Cedric Diggory!" He declared. The Hufflepuff table almost exploded with cheers and roars of happiness. Every single person at the Hufflepuff table had jumped to their feet, some onto the table as they shouted and screamed their approval. Cedric Diggory was a handsome, kind looking boy. He stood up from the table, being given dozens of pats on the back by his table mates before he headed off. The cheering had to be stopped after some time, as it went on so long.

"Excellent!" The old Headmaster called out. "Well, we now have our three champions. I am sure I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give your champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering your champion on, you will contribute in a very real—" But the man then stopped talking.

He'd stopped, because the Goblet of Fire had turned red once again. Sparks, once again, were flying out of it. And with it, another scrap of parchment. He snatched it out of the air with much more aggression then before. The silence was almost deafening. Then, he read out, " _Harry Potter._ "

"Harry Potter!" Dumbledore shouted again. "Harry! Up here, if you please!"

Maisie tried to search him out. He got to his feet, and tripped before stumbling over towards the Headmaster. All the students, throughout the Hall, looked a mixture of horrified and livid. Potter disappeared through the door.

Once he was gone, voices sprouted all across the Hall. The most outraged being the Hufflepuffs, who had begun to make their complaints quite loudly. One girl had even stood up, her wand out and her face in a terrible sneer, like she was prepared to run after Potter. This was quickly shut down by Professor Sprout, who had hurried over to the Table to settle down her students. But really, it wasn't just the Hufflepuff's who'd begun this. The Ravenclaws too looked exceptionally peeved. The Slytherin's though, they had horrible looks on their faces...

/~/

The Common room was abuzz when she entered it. Almost the entire House stayed downstairs, filling every chair and every empty space, waiting for Potter to return. But she didn't want to be one of them.

Maisie had to dodge past a few girls to get up to her dorm. Almost right after she closed the door behind her, a blast of cheers came up the hall. Then, she flinched, hearing a horrible shriek from someone downstairs.

"I hate the sound of them all."

She actually jumped at the sound of another voice. It was Granger, sitting there in her bed by the wall, holding a thickly bound book in her arms and a wooden box of buttons in front of her. The bushy haired girl didn't seem to notice her jolt of surprise, though she was sure that she was in fact talking to her, because she was clearly the only girl in the room with her. The girl waved her wand at the door, and suddenly silence came over them.

Maisie hesitated before going towards her bed, picking Eugenia up from her nap and placing her into her cage. She saw Granger's orange cat sitting there next to it's owner, purring loudly. The cat was part kneazle. It was hard not to notice that, but the feline still might take a look at Eugenia and consider her an annoyance or a pest. Full-blooded kneazle's would never even think to harm another familiar, but there was some part of the animal where the cat in it that may be tempted.

She slipped off her shoes, tucking them under her bed next to her black ones for school days.

Granger was still gazing at her from her bed, holding the wooden box full of buttons. Maisie was starting to feel uncomfortable. She looked longingly up at her curtains, wanting to pull them around her as she removed the bobby's from her hair and put them back into the small box on her bedside table. Oh Merlin, she could almost feel the other girl's stare. _Probably trying to figure out my name without having to ask for it_ , Maisie thought, too tired to be bitter about her roommate not knowing her name, as well as being far too used to it by now.

"Macey?"

She stopped, clenching her fists in her blankets. "MAZE-ee." Her retort was firm and exaggerated, and it actually made Granger frown before she hurriedly offered her apologies to her, which Maisie ignored in favor of pulling up her school bag and taking out her homework about antidotes for Potions as well as her textbook. It was when she was in the middle of fetching her inkwell and quill that Granger began to muster up the courage to try talking to her again.

"I-I don't think we've ever really spoken before."

"We haven't." Maisie recounted as she flipped through her Potions textbook. She didn't feel good about where this was headed, it was like she was being spoken to by a car salesmen or something. Her briefness only made her roommate hesitate for a moment before Granger got up from her own bed and then approached her.

"Do you need any help with that? I've finished it already, maybe you and I could—?" But she was cut off by Maisie, who gave her an appalled look.

"What are you trying to get from me?" She asked her incredulously, her voice getting a bit high pitched and mean as she watched the other girl take a half-step away from her, clutching the wooden box to her chest. Granger had the decency to look ashamed, her big buckteeth biting down on her lower lip. But that wasn't enough to budge her away completely.

"Did you know that Hogwarts is run by slavery?!"

That made her pause in her work and look at her with her mouth open in surprise. _What in Merlin's name?_ Maisie thought, blinking owlishly at Granger who had suddenly gone into a rampage of words, getting closer and closer to her until Eugenia actually squeaked out in indignation when the box was placed on her desk in front of her cage. "It is! It's run by elves, and they don't get paid anything, they have no sick days or vacation! The Castle is run on complete slavery!" Granger almost shouted in her face. Maisie cringed away from her, backing up further on her bed until her back was against the headboard.

"Uh-hhum... I don't think so." She whispered in protest.

Granger huffed, moving back and putting her hands on her hips, looking angry with her brief rebuttal. Was this actually happening? Was this real life, was this witch really so daft that she thought that House Elves were slaves? It must be a dream. There's no way that this entire night was real. First Potter becoming a Champion, and now one of his friends, instead of mulling that over (and more importantly, going on as usual and not scaring her) was now shouting at her about House Elf rights?

Dizzy headed, Maisie put her cool hand against her forehead, feeling it throb slightly underneath her hand. Or was that her magic pulsating? She didn't know, because right now it all just felt the same.

Before the muggle-born witch could interrogate her further, their other roommates filed into the room. Lavender and Parvati came in, holding onto each other's arms as they whispered excitedly to each other. Then, when the two girls saw Hermione, they almost pounced on her, each of them with bright, accusing smiles on their faces.

"Did you know that he submitted his name, Hermione?" Lavender asked her hungrily, making Granger scowl in response. Thankfully, she took her box and returned to her bed, obviously intending on ignoring their prying questions.

Maisie breathed out a small sigh of relief, smoothing her hands over her hair before settling back to her forgotten Potions work.

* * *

It was the first of November. Maisie couldn't believe that the time was once _again_ upon her.

She conjured a light green chrysanthemum, whose tips where tinted a very slight pink, and set it in front of her mother's photograph. Because it was a Sunday, she'd have plenty of time to go through mourning, what with not having classes that day. Last year, when it was on a Friday, her Father had sent a letter to the Headmaster to excuse her from classes.

After breakfast, she'd gather all of the things she needed and head down to the (highly unused) alter on the second floor. But for now, Maisie took the glass candle holder from her trunk, settled a long light pink candle inside of it firmly before setting it next to the picture. At home, her father had likely put all of the candles in the house in front of the alter and let all of them burn at once. Maybe he at least remembered to put a charm over them to keep them from burning the tapestries on the wall.

She dressed in white. The light dress had buttons down the front and was embroidered in red at the end where it flowed around her ankles. No shoes. No undergarments. Only her navy cloak on top, which would have to be removed before she stepped foot inside of the alter room. Maisie considered going to the Greenhouse to ask if she could pick a few flowers—or at least the ones that didn't try to fight back—to make a flower crown. There were a few bushes and growths that Sprout had in her office that were just simple flowers. She grew a few English roses and some pink peonies, which weren't her Mother's favorite, but she couldn't very well just conjure them up.

It wouldn't be acceptable.

Flats were slipped on for breakfast, and she headed down to the Great Hall. Longbottom even tilted his head down respectfully when she walked past him. He likely whispered his sorrows, but she couldn't hear him. He spoke too quietly.

When Maisie sat down, five people moved a bit closer to her. None of them sat _with_ her of course, but they had gotten out of their seats, away from their friends, and sat at least a foot closer to her. All of them murmured condolences under their breaths. None of them knew her. She didn't know their names, either. All they saw was the mourning attire and they responded, while their friends, half-bloods and muggle-borns both who didn't understand what they were doing and why they were tilting their heads respectfully to her, looked on with puzzled looks.

She ate only the fruits offered in front of her. Sliced apples and a flute of cranberry juice. When she left the table, those who had moved to sit slightly closer to her moved back to their spots with another murmur of their condolences.

Maisie ached to remove her shoes now, before she reached the altar, but she didn't want to risk her toes being stepped on. She stopped in front of the sudden group of Slytherin's who were beginning to enter the Hall. Malfoy, a boy with very light blonde hair who she was related to by a mutual Great-great Grandmother paused to look at her when he saw the mourning she was dressed in. She shouldn't have expected him to turn against his beliefs, but when he moved his arm, she felt a twinge of fear, expecting him to take out his wand.

But he raised his arm up and placed his pale white hand flatly over his chest, staring down at her before tilting his head down elegantly. Then, he expressed his sorrow—muttering to her words she couldn't catch—before dropping his hand away from his chest. The two behind him, Goyle and Zabini, only tilted their heads respectfully. Her family wasn't connected to theirs by marriage yet, so they didn't have to profess their sadness to her.

She mimicked him, only her hand placed over her dress on top of her chest plate. "My heavy heart has lightened." Maisie recited softly to the taller boy before letting her hand fall down gently back to her side. The three of them left without another word to her. It was a shore to them, likely, having to go through these required performances to anyone outside of their own House. Then again, she doubted any of them knew her by anything but her face. Maybe her name, as it _was_ written down on the Malfoy tree.

Rather than attempt to find Professor Sprout, she plucked dozens of Chamomile from where it sprouted up in the grass, carrying the flowers in the basket she'd made from holding the end of her skirt. Maisie kicked off her shoes and dropped her cloak on top of them.

The photograph she had in her bedroom was now there, on top of the stone box in the front of the room, with 26 candles placed all along the three steps in front of it. The same number as the age of her Mother when she died eight years ago. She lit them one by one with the tip of her wand. As they burned, she took a few steps away from the alter and got down onto her knees. The crowns were made, curling the white tea-blossoms together, the green stems holding tight with careful braiding. The first one was set on front of the moving picture. The second one went on top of her head.

Maisie sat back on her legs, her hands joined together on her lap. Her mother's picture moved, smiling beautifully like she always did with her blonde hair flowing in the invisible wind.

"Hi Mum." She said finally, her words echoing against the stone walls.

"It's been a long ten years, hasn't it?" The candles flickered slightly from the open door. Maisie considered closing it, but thought that her Mum would like the feeling of the breeze.

"Dad still has your anniversary every year. You probably know that, you must show up with us... But you'll never guess what he's got planned this year, Mum." She said teasingly to the photograph, smiling at it. "When you show up, you'll be so surprised! Auntie Venus is coming too, so I'm sure she'll try to make it a bit glamorous for you. Maybe even bring those feather boas that she has over the windows." She said with a small, sad laugh.

She couldn't feel her there. When she would pray for her Grandfather with her Dad during Samhain, she could feel him there, like he was just out of the line of shot, or just in the other room smoking his old cigars. But he always showed up, she had no doubt in the world about that.

But her Mum? Mabel was never there. She could never feel her presence. There wasn't even the feeling of magic in the room, which usually was a distant pleasant buzz of power. But there was nothing there but herself.

Maisie let her shoulders slump forward, her head falling to bare the crown of her head to the alter. Her hair created a curtain around her head, light peering through the strands and reflecting the warm yellow tints in her hair back at her. Her heart felt like it was breaking. Every year she tried to speak to her Mum, and each time she felt no one was there, it felt more and more like her Mother just didn't want to see her.

The slight girl moved down, pressing her forehead to the stone, her hands braced on either side of her.

"My heavy heart has been freed." She whispered into the cold floor. The candles flickered, but didn't go out. Maisie wanted to leave. Would the Gods consider this heinous even though her Mum never came to the alter in the first place? Maybe they'd forgive her...

Resigned, she moved up from her spot on the floor and settled the foods that Mabel Martin-Moors had enjoyed in front of the steps of candles. She gazed at the full alter, the bouquets of chrysanthemum on the walls, the melting candles. It looked beautiful and the scents alone were reminiscent of her Mother's purely feminine perfume that she wore. The sweet pea candles she lit at night and carried to her bedroom, leaving them on her dresser with a charm over them because her little daughter was frightened of the dark. She never had let her crawl into bed with her and Dad when she was scared, but she did leave her a light pink candle.

Maisie took a step away from the alter, focusing on the moving photograph and her Mother's smile. She reached up and pulled the chamomile crown from her head, holding it loosely in her head. _Goodbye Mum_ , she thought, defeated.

* * *

 **a slightly shorter chapter, but I tried to add another scene and it just seemed way too forced**

 **so this is what it's been settled as**

 **R &R pretty pretty pretty please!**


	6. Chapter 6

**A special thanks to Lizzie00, Guest and guest for reviewing!**

* * *

 **November, 1994**

 **Hogwarts, Scotland**

 ** _Veelas_**

* * *

Maisie squeezed her pruning sheers gently, clipping a few unwanted stems from the Venomous Tentacula plant in front of her, the green growths falling to the floor, ending their own squirming. Thankfully it was just a juvenile, so it's poison certainly couldn't kill her yet (though she wore her dragonhide gloves anyhow) and it's vines were too thin to strangle her to death. The stun that Professor Sprout had put on the plant was going to run off soon, so she hurried with her extra credit task as much as she could, clipping the leaves off and getting rid of unhealthy growths.

It wasn't that she was _terrible_ at Herbology, it was more that her written work was a bit better than her practical, so she'd asked Professor Sprout (who'd only forgotten her second last name and had called her Miss Martin when she came to her office) if she could have some extra credit work to do to boost up her grade in some way.

And so, she was given the job nobody wanted to do. Prune the Venomous Tentaculas. To be safe, Sprout had stunned all of the plants herself and had given her an extra, very thick cloak to wear over her safety apron.

 _Snip. Snip. Snip._

The leaves fell. The young Tentacula began to shift and move, so Maisie took two large steps back like she was told to and took out her willow wand before pointing it at the plant whose vines had begun to squirm and move as if it were stretching it's arms above it's head in the morning.

" _Immobulus_." She uttered with uncertainty, keeping her distance from the row of pots. The plant froze it's movements, now just moving with a breeze that wasn't there.

She moved back to finish pruning the plant, with only a handful more snips she had to finish before she set the gardening tools down.

"Professor Sprout!" She called out for the Professor who was still in her office. Maisie took a few steps away from the plant, untying the apron and pulling the thick brown fabric off over her head and hung it where the others were on the side of the wall.

The slight Gryffindor had to call out twice more until Sprout finally came bustling from her office, looking very peeved. In a very cowardly manner, Maisie felt like fleeing. Unfortunately she didn't have time to, because she had just nodded briskly at her before saying she'd gotten her extra credit before muttering meanly under her breath.

Maisie turned out of the Greenhouses with a small frown on her face, her bag over her shoulder as she left for Charms. Professor Sprout was angry over Potter's becoming a champion and taking all of the attention from Hufflepuff. And maybe she had been taking that out at all of Gryffindor... It couldn't be just her though.

In Charms, they were practicing Summoning. Some things were being only half-summoned and were falling onto the floor in heaps. Someone had tried to summon another person, which not only didn't work, but annoyed Flitwick enough to scold them.

Her summoning charm wasn't _that_ disappointing, she had managed to get things to come to her, but they had gone up in down rather than zoom straight to her hand, like the things were drunkenly trying to follow her orders. When homework was assigned, she was pleased that she didn't have to have any of the extra homework. That was given to Longbottom and Potter, who both had been unable to perform the charm at all.

On the way to lunch, the gaggle of girls following after Cedric Diggory, the handsome Hufflepuff champion, walked at her from behind like she wasn't there, their shoving of their sharp shoulders into her sending her falling to the ground, her bag spilling out over the floor. Her long blue quills and papers were being stepped on now by passing students, each of them not giving a damn about her being on her knees trying to scramble around and pick up her things. When Maisie looked up after picking up her inkwell, she found that the entire hall was now empty.

She tried to hurry to lunch, as she had Double Potions afterwards and that was a very poor class to have tummy grumbles in. Professor Snape would not have any pity for the person who chose to sneak a snack in between potion stirrings.

The Great Hall was bustling. Enough so that she could only pick up a few turkey sandwiches before scooting out of the room so she could avoid everyone else. Maisie ate her lunch on the virtually empty stair while she read the reply letter she'd gotten from her Aunt at breakfast.

 _My Dearest,_

 _Somehow I'm not surprised that Harry Potter managed to get into the Triwizard Tournament. After what happened at the World Cup, it's starting to feel a lot like the War all over again... Your Dad wouldn't want me to tell you about this, but a witch from the Ministry has gone missing mysteriously over the summer, one of the ladies who were in on the Tournament happening at Hogwarts._

 _And now Potter's somehow been entered to the very Tournament she was helping with after she's disappeared?_

 _Nothing is_ ever _a coincidence, Mairead._

 _Venus_

She frowned down at the paper, reading over her Aunt's warning once more. Venus had always been on the suspicious side, which was borderline overdramatic a lot of the time. She'd gotten into a horrible argument with a Ministry agent over why she'd used an invisibility charm in a ladies changing room (with a Muggle woman just outside) and then walked out again with her form merging around with her surroundings, which, against popular belief, the Muggles had clearly noticed. She'd believed that someone had followed her inside and that she had to get out somehow.

But this warning seemed more ominous, because for once this warning was being given to herself. And now she didn't like sitting there on the stairs alone. Maisie wanted to return to the Great Hall, to the hustle and bustle of her fellow students. She got up from her place, brushing the crumbs off of her skirt before going down the stairs.

The courtyard had a few people who were with their friends and such. As well as some of the students from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons. The sable haired girl wandered to the entrance to the courtyard, putting her hand against the stone pillar, resting against the cool stone. She shuddered as a chill breeze passed through, and she tightened her wool cloak around herself for warmth. She wished she'd remembered to put her Gryffindor scarf in her bag that morning, but she'd been in a hurry to get to the Greenhouses.

"Are you cold?" A french-accented voice inquired, sending a chill down her the back of her neck. It was the Beauxbatons champion, Fleur Delacour, who was standing close to her in her silky school robes. The older girl was looking at her, a nice expression on her face.

"Oh. Uh.." Maisie stuttered, looking down at herself. She wasn't shuddering at all, and her teeth weren't chattering... But then, Fleur took out her wand and waved it over her, with it sending a feeling of heat wrapping around her, settling comfortably in her bones. The other girl smiled at her, shifting slightly in a proud way.

"Thanks." She said to Fleur, letting her arms drop down to her sides, her warm cloak falling back over her smoothly.

There was a moment of silence between the two of them, awkwardly from Maisie, and rather jovially from the blonde girl. Then, it broke when the other girl began speaking again.

"Would you like to join me at dinner zis evening?" She implored gently before pushing her cool, silky blonde hair back over her shoulder. Maisie tugged at the end of her brown hair a bit self consciously.

"What?" The Gryffindor took a half-step away from Fleur. The french girl was looking at her strangely, and she was absolutely sure that she had her own odd expression on her face. Surprise, mixed with some kind of caution or concern over this unprecedented invitation by this girl who she'd only had one conversation with a week ago. Maybe she'd confused her with somebody else? That seemed plausible, so Maisie asked this of Fleur, who actually looked affronted by the question, her pretty face turning a light shade of pink.

"Of 'ourse you! You _are_ Mai-sie, yes?" The way she pronounced her name made it sound so much more eloquent than it actually was, and she didn't correct her on it. Maisie just nodded mutely.

Fleur tilted her chin up, looking down at her now. "Then I will zee you at dinner." She said with a certain finality in her voice before she swept away, leaving the young Gryffindor standing there, incredibly confused, just as the school bell rang.

* * *

Double Potions had a brilliant chance of wiping her mind of her day. She had no chance of thinking about anything else but what she was doing there. Too many things that could go wrong, and while Snape looked over her like she wasn't there, it was a fat chance for him to overlook a melted cauldron or an explosion from her table.

When Maisie got to the classroom, outside of it was every Slytherin in their class. Only a portion of Gryffindor had arrived, and all of them looked steamed. She had to double check why.

On each of the Slytherins were unusually brightly colored badges. Written in red on each of them was ' _Support CEDRIC DIGGORY—the REAL Hogwarts Champion!_ '

"Like them, Potter?" Draco called in her direction. It was baffling until she turned and saw the dark-haired boy just behind her with Granger at his side. "And this isn't all they do—look!"

Maisie looked, and as he raised his pale hand and pressed it against the button, the scarlet message changed completely, and now glowed green letters that read: _POTTER STINKS_. She took a few steps towards the wall across from them, preferring to hide in the crowds rather be in the very middle of what was sure to be a masculinity contest. Granger had looked right at her then, glaring at her. What could she do though? Say something about the badges? She was more likely to get hexed by both sides of the fight, no matter who she was sticking for.

The Slytherins all howled with laughter, especially Parkinson with the gang of girls behind her. They were cackling the hardest.

"Oh, _very_ funny." Granger said sarcastically to them, in a very brave fashion that Maisie never could have done. "Really _witty._ "

"Want one, Granger?" Draco inquired, taking an elegant step forward, all of his movements displaying the grace he was raised with. He held out one of the badges to Granger, who was seething with rage. "I've got loads. But don't touch my hand, now. I've just cleaned it, you see, and I don't want a Mudblood dirtying it all up." She gasped and put her hand over her mouth.

In that moment, it seemed like Potter suddenly had it in him to kill a man. Because then his wand was out, the people in the corridor backed out of the way as quickly as they could.

"Harry!" Granger exclaimed.

"Go on, then, Potter." Draco said, taking out his own wand. His fingers looked itchy. "Moody's not here to look after you now—do it, if you've got the guts—" His words only seemed to spur Potter on, and Maisie was actually _slammed_ against the wall as the boy in front of her backed into her. Was it from curses the two boys sent off at each other? Had there been a blast? A sharp pain radiated from the back of her skull, and then suddenly a horrible icy feeling spread its way through her chest from the hot sting on her head.

She fell to the floor, onto her arse, her legs falling out in front of her. A few spots were in her vision now, black and fogging up whatever was occurring clearly in front of her.

Her eyes closed once, and then suddenly Professor Snape was leaning down in front of her. Before she could cringe away, he put his hand on her shoulder. It was a cold gesture, stopping her from making the injury worse.

"Don't move." He ordered her. Maisie froze in her movements. Then, Potter was hurrying over to her direction, his hand over his face, where his front teeth had grown past his lower lip and was now digging on top of his chin, his bright green eyes shockingly filled with alarm and concern.

"Ish chee goin ee okca?!" Potter was trying to speak to Snape, who was grazing his wand at the back of her skull gently, doing a diagnostic spell on the wound. Light green lines and movements appeared, trafficking her heartbeat. The lines were all jagged, her heart was racing.

Potter was trying to wrestle away from Granger and Longbottom (Had they always been there?), who were trying to keep him from getting too close, and also trying to get him to go to the Hospital Wing and stop his massively growing teeth.

"50 more points from Gryffindor, Potter. Would you care for anymore?" Snape snapped at the boy, who only glared fiercely back at him. "Get back. All of you!"

And then, the Matron was there. When had she gotten there, Maisie wondered. She hadn't even seen her coming. Her kind face was welcome compared to Snape's stern, unfriendly one. She frowned as she checked her over. Then, her lips began moving. She was talking.

"Do you know your name, love? Will you tell me your name?"

"Maisie.." She said, noting the wing-like quality of Professor Snape's robes as he rose up to standing and began hissing at the rest of the students, ushering them inside of the classroom.

"Your last name?"

"Martin-Moors... I have two of them."

"Very good." Pomfrey praised her as she glided her wand down along her head, making sensations tingle out and fight against the heat there. The pain became even more foggy, and then she was in the air. Her eyes shut once, and then, she was staring at the Hospital Wing's ceiling, at the stone arches and architecture. Maisie furrowed her brows, trying to remember how she'd gotten there.

Her memory had started to become uncooperative. These black, blank spots in the middle of everything, like she'd fallen to sleep. But Maisie hadn't gone to sleep at all. She'd just blinked and everything was different. She squirmed in the bed she was in until she was sitting upright. She felt the back of her head. There was nothing. No bandages, no pain, not even any soreness there. Madam Pomfrey couldn't have healed her that well, could she? Head wounds were massively sensitive, especially the back of the head.

Maisie pressed the pads of her fingertips against her head harder. Still, nothing except the feeling of her hands there. So she wasn't numb to it. It had just vanished completely!

"Mmh." She grunted, pushing off the blankets and getting up from the bed. It was still light outside. She hadn't been blacked out for that long then, her Double Potions had started right after lunch. Her Double Potions!

"Oh no!" The sable-haired girl moaned, hurrying to find her bag. It was there, against the side table!

"What are you doing, young lady?" The Matron snapped, watching as she threw her cloak over her shoulders and yanked up her bag.

"My Potions! I was supposed to use my antidote today in Potions! Professor Snape will never let me make it up unless I do it today!" Maisie cried, pulling on her shiny black shoes and tying them hastily. She could already imagine the sneer on his face as he took a bazillion points away from Gryffindor all because of her not making her antidote.

Madam Pomfrey huffed and set down the tray she was carrying. "Oh no you will not! Professor Snape is the one who called for me, he's not about to make you go back to that old dungeon again with a head wound like yours! No. You're staying right here." She ordered, pointing her finger back to the bed. "Now turn around now, I want to see how it's gotten. The potions I gave you should have made a little progress since then." Pomfrey said in a bustling sort of way, gesturing for her to turn her back to her.

Hesitantly, Maisie obeyed, and felt the Matron's hands parting her hair. Madam Pomfrey breathed heavily out of her nose.

"Well, it seems they did better than I thought. Now, tell me if you feel any pain." Then, she felt fingers press against the back of her skull, some firm and some light.

"I-I don't feel anything." She half-whispered half-muttered guiltily. The older witch removed her hands and smoothed her hair back.

"Well... Then I suppose you're quite lucky then, aren't you Miss Moors?" _Martin_ -Moors.

"Yes." Maisie replied in a small voice, trying not to act on the feeling of snapping at the Matron.

"Go on then. But if you feel any discomfort at all, come back straight away!" The sable-haired girl returned that with a 'yes ma'm' before exiting out of the Hospital Wing.

* * *

Professor Snape hadn't been in the classroom. When she'd knocked on his office door, he hadn't been there either.

Resigned and a little upset, Maisie frowned and turned around in her tracks, heading back up the stone steps to the first floor. A few Durmstrang students passed by her up the stairs to the Great Hall. It was likely dinnertime. She eyed the doors as she reluctantly went up to the Great Hall. A short grumble went through her stomach. She didn't feel like eating anything. All she wanted was a hot cup of tea. Black tea today, something that would wake her up. What with those black outs she had, she didn't want to risk falling asleep tonight. A single cube of sugar. No milk.

Maisie snuck inside of the Hall.

Apparently, she hadn't done it quietly enough, because then Fleur Delacour began waving at her from the Ravenclaw table. Her face began to turn hot, and surely her face was a bright pink now that she'd stood up from her table and walked towards her with a vivacious smile on her face.

"Mai-sie!" She greeted her brightly, hooking her arm around hers and pulling her towards the Ravenclaws. Some of her fellow Gryffindors actually looked up, most of them boys, to stare at what was happening. Maisie cringed into the other girl, trying not to wonder about what was going through their minds. No doubt it'd be something inappropriate.

Fleur sat her down right next to herself, where a bare plate and platter was set up. She must have saved the seat for her. Uneasy and perplexed, Maisie shifted in her seat as the girls around them greeted her with hand shakes and nods of their heads.

She fiddled with the end of her dark skirt, eying the pot of tea just on the other side of the group she had suddenly become apart of. Conversation had sprouted up between Fleur and the others, so she couldn't just interrupt them, not when they'd so welcomed her. Maisie picked up one of the tea cups that was stacked upside down on the table, willing the tea pot over to her. Unfortunately, it wasn't charmed to float and move, because the contents were so hot, unlike the baskets of bread that floated this way and that.

"Mai-sie?" Fleur inquired to her, holding a tall bottle that had french written on it. It wasn't wine, she didn't think. But still, she didn't want to find out.

"Oh, no thank you. I'd just ah, the tea." Her fractured sentence was stupidly embarrassing.

The elder girl nodded politely and set down the bottle before picking up the tea pot underneath it's cloth cozy. The french girl poured it into her cup for her, a serene smile on her face.

"You're a Veela, aren't you?" Maisie asked her suddenly. The girls around them giggled in a very dainty way, putting their hands up to their mouths to hide their smiles, much to her chagrin. Fleur gently scolded them in french, words that she couldn't quite catch that well.

"Yes. My grandmuzzer ez a full-blooded Veela." She looked rather proud of that fact. Though, if Maisie was related to a creature known for being one of the most beautiful things in the Wizarding World, she wouldn't have been disappointed of it. Again, she pushed her hair back, self-conscious of the way it looked, too fluffy at the bottom and too flat on top. Fleur reached over to her and took hold of her delicate hand, putting it back onto the wooden table. But then she didn't take her hand away.

"You should eat 'someting." Her accented voice chided her for her empty plate, despite the dishes around her.

Out of touch with her thoughts, Maisie just sat there as Fleur then started to place things onto her plate. A serving of potatoes, salad, peas and two legs of chicken were set there. The girls around them looked almost coy, each of them looking pleased. The looks on their faces made her stomach churn uncomfortably. She felt very suspicious now, about why she was there. Was this a prank? Were they going to do something to her? Was that why they were smiling like that?

But Fleur looked insistent that she eat. But instead, she just drank her tea.

* * *

 **Is this all a bit repetitive? I feel like it is.**

 **Also Fleur/Maisie? Fleur/Maisie. It won't be anything substantial, but hey.**

 **Read, Review, Follow/Favorite, etc!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Thanks to KoreanMusicFan, Siriusly Goode, skepticalfox, Arowanaax3, Guest and Guest for reviewing!**

 **Arowanaax3: Unfortunately, Maisie doesn't 'get back' at anybody herself. But she does grow herself a backbone after Voldemort's return (just like how Harry got all angst-y and acted like a total pain in the ass right after his return).**

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 **November, 1994**

 **Hogwarts, Scotland**

 _ **The Notorious Mass-Murderer, Sirius Black**_

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Maisie frowned at her Daily Prophet. Rita Skeeter's crude, over-dramatized words couldn't have possibly made it past an actual editor unless they were barmy or under a Confundus charm. _So many writing mistakes..._ She thought critically as she sipped at her morning tea. Rita Skeeter had spelled all the other Champion's names wrong, and Cedric Diggory hadn't even been mentioned in the article, he was only shown in one of the photographs. The smallest one, on the side of the paper that was the last photo anybody would look at, compared to the one at the top of Potter alone.

She peeked towards the Hufflepuff table over her paper. They were all glowering. At the Gryffindor table, at the front of the Hall, and the table. The only one who wasn't was Diggory himself, who was whispering furiously with his friends, who all wore the glowing ' _POTTER STINKS_ ' buttons that Malfoy had the week before. Since when were the Hufflepuffs so openly friendly with the Slytherins anyway? She folded the Daily Prophet in half and left it there on the Gryffindor table. It wasn't worth going through the rest of the paper if there was going to be anymore Rita Skeeter Triwizard Tournament business in it.

It was a Hogsmeade weekend, and the first task would be that Tuesday, so the village was would be filled with a lot of people. Maisie had intended on skipping the weekend, just to avoid the crowds of people who'd likely bump into her or sit on her in the rush, but she had no choice. Her body had grown again, and she once again needed to get clothes that fit her.

She tugged down at her blue skirt, trying to make it stretch to cover her legs. It used to go down to her knees, but now was up three inches higher around her thighs, giving her legs a chill through her thin, rosy colored tights. There should be a spell to make clothing longer, Maisie thought, a bit embarrassed that she had to keep tugging on her clothing to cover her legs.

Almost as if it were for her sake, Gladrags was miraculously sparse of people, leaving Maisie free to do her shopping comfortably. But when she was in the middle of picking out more hosiery (woman's sizes now, she no longer fit in girls clothing), the owner came by with an odd look on her face. Not really a smile, but more of a grimace, like she didn't want to be talking to her.

"Hogwarts?" The woman inquired, pushing her hair behind her back flippantly.

Maisie narrowed into herself protectively and nodded hesitantly. "Yes ma'am." The owner didn't look impressed, and stuck up her pointed nose before leading her over to the back of the store, where a large row of gowns and dress robes hung in protective clear covers. They ranged from bright, hot pink that shined under the light, to pitch black that twinkled like the night sky. The woman behind her tapped her foot against the floor, the clicks making her flinch.

"Go on now and choose one, girl. The dressing rooms are over there." She pointed to the curtained off area on the right side of the store.

"Uhh.."

But the owner turned away swiftly and walked over to a group of Ravenclaw girls who'd come inside, greeting them cheerfully, so unlike how she treated herself. It made her want to sink through the floor and into the ground. She shifted back and forth on the balls of her feet, flickering her eyes back to the rows of dresses. They were very nice looking, Maisie noticed with a churning stomach. Especially the lighter colored ones, covered in thin lace and shiny fabric. With a frown, she half-heartedly began to look through them.

Disappointed with herself, she carried her purchases to Madam Puddifoot's. How had that woman managed to convince her to buy a brand new gown? And after she was so rude to her too... Her father was going to be so cross with her for not spending her allowance wisely, no matter how lovely the dress!

A hard bump hit her shoulder, and Maisie gasped, taking a large jump away, grabbing hold of her upper arm. But there was no one around her, not at all! But then, she heard a masculine voice mutter an apology in her ear, despite nobody being around her at all! She let out an annoyed huff, stomping her foot down on the cold cobblestone street before hurrying off into the small teashop. The smell of tea and coffee filled the room like a cloud, and she welcomed the familiar, comforting scent.

"Hello there, Mairead. A table?" Madam Puddifoot asked her as she walked in between the round tables, serving her customers.

"Yes." She breathed appreciatively to the older woman, slumping her shoulders down after removing her dark cloak. To battle the November chill, the Madam had lit the two, short brick fireplaces in the round shop, though they had begun to fall and shorten, despite the occasional wand that would force the flames to spike higher. Maisie was led to a doily-less table by the outward window, where there were several displays of cakes and other sorts of pies and tarts set up.

Madam Puddifoot pulled out a small notepad and quill, dabbing it on the tip of her tongue before grinning down at her kindly. "What's your preference today, dear?" She asked her.

Maisie was very fond of the roman-eyed Madam. She knew and remembered her by name (a miracle no doubt from the Gods themselves), as well as her table preference of having no decorative doily (which would end up stained by tea and coffee by the end of each day, she'd rather not add to it's ruination). They had long conversations about the best way to take and serve tea, which kinds needed sugar or honey. Which were acceptable to put a slice of lemon inside, which could be bagged or strained.

She set down her bags next to her padded wooden chair. "I think today is an oolong kind of day, Madam." The sable-haired girl simpered, pushing her too-short skirt down underneath herself before sitting at the small round table.

Madam Puddifoot scribbled that down with her pure white quill. "And lunch today, love? You can't _just_ have tea again, you're a growing girl." _Tell me about it._

"Soup of the day, then." Maisie said, much to the Madam's approval.

"Good girl. It'll be right off." She told her, before bustling away to take away a previously snogging couples empty teapot. Maisie averted her eyes, instead taking out a piece of parchment from her bag, along with a well full of blue ink and a quill to scribble with. Her rounded scribble turned into an eye, and around it, she outlined a long serpent with a rounded mouth and snout that resembled more like a cat's mouth in her drawing. It's forked tongue poked out from it cartoon-ishly, and in a frivolous way, Maisie took out her wand and charmed it to make it's tongue flicker in and out.

"That's very sweet looking, love." Madam Puddifoot said lightly to her, hovering down the hot teapot, which was covered in a tartan printed cozy. "Do you have one?" She asked as she placed down a bowl of a broth-y soup and a roll of french bread on a plate.

Surprised, Maisie blinked and shook her head. "No. It's just something from a dream I've been having."

"Must be some dream, with details like that."

"Yes it is."

She picked up the teapot, pouring the light orange liquid into her shiny white tea cup. It was a floral blend, rather than the darker, more robust kind of oolong that some people preferred. No sugar was required.

/~/

Maisie had claimed of one of the stout armchairs in the far corner of the room by the large, coolly paneled window, curling up into it with her Standard Book of Spells, her wand lazing in her hand. Only two people had accidentally sat on her, not seeing her there, before eventually everyone just avoided the armchairs all together.

" _Accio_." She cast, pointing her wand at one of the stray inkwells on the side tables. It zoomed straight to her hand, and she tossed it slightly in the air before catching it again. At least she had her Charms work down for now, at least until they got to Banishing work, which Maisie could only cringe at the thought of. Banishing was no easy work, you could easily only banish parts of an object, leaving something or other behind. The inkwell she'd taken was hovered back to the table.

There was a crawling feeling over her leg, and Eugenia scurried up into her lap.

"Hello girl." She greeted her, scratching the top of her brown head with her fingertip. "How's your day been, hmm?" Maisie asked teasingly, to which her familiar squeaked and shut her tiny eyes, leaning her furry head onto her hand.

"Likely better than mine, am I right?"

Eugenia climbed up her arm, her tiny claws pinpricking her skin through her brown cardigan. Her warm little body settled into the crook of her neck, wheezing gently in her little rat-sleep. Maisie leaned back, resting her head against the cushy pillow of the chair. Indeed, she was almost as tired as Eugenia was. It was her own fault, eating turkey for dinner. She should really go back upstairs to sleep, but her heavy eyelids closed in on her like they were attached by fishing weights. But when one sleeps, there are always dreams that follow.

 _"Mairead. Come in, won't you?" A low voice hissed from the tall, old armchair by the fire._ He looks much better now _, she thought there, happily, at the sight of the odd skeletal figure wrapped up in a large, thick black cloak. His eyes were a much more vibrant scarlet now, gleaming from the glow of the fire. She obeyed his request, coming in through the doorway, where a dead, old muggle man had fallen dead. But she had just stepped over his slowly cooling body to duck inside._

 _His body was horribly cramped into the chair, his skin tinted a sickly grey color. But he seemed to have more mass to him and more energy, because he raised his skull up to watch her come inside with an odd sort of expression._

 _Then, he looked towards the portly, rat-like man in the room. "Show it to me, Wormtail." He hissed at him. His name was Peter, she knew that somehow._

 _The man, Wormtail, trembled fearfully before pulling up his sleeve. Laying there was a black tattoo, the dark mark, with a horrible skull and a twisted snake pouring out of it's jaws and moving around on his arm. It squirmed underneath the skin of his forearm as if bugs had made their nest there and were awakening from sleep. It should have made her stomach turn, but the only thing that disgusted her was Wormtail himself, who looked like a cowardly old man who didn't seem worthy enough to be caring for the weak creature in the thick wool cloak._

 _"Yes... The time is close now. Mairead, closer now, girl... We mustn't lose you somehow." He chided her. Maisie felt flush, and she sat up on the right arm of the chair, dutifully, with her hands on her knees and her head down. He was pleased with her submission._

 _"I won't disappoint you, my Lord." The dark haired man kneeled before the armchair. His eyes flickered at her, almost pointedly. But she said nothing, only sat there by the arm of the crippled man._

 _"Excellent. I'll be keeping an eye over the situation, Barty." He hissed again, his head heavily leaning against the side of the chair, as if it weighed far too much for his neck to keep steady._

 _"Of course my Lord."_

"So... what are you saying?" A voice murmured, the sound of it drawing her out of her sleep, and out of the dream she'd been having. "Karkaroff's trying to kill me? But—why?"

There was a moment of silence. Then, "I've been hearing some very strange things."

Her blood went cold. There was someone in the Common Room.

"The Death Eaters seem to be a bit more active than usual lately. They showed themselves at the Quidditch World Cup, didn't they? Someone set off the Dark Mark... And then—did you hear about that Ministry of Magic witch who's gone missing?" The World Cup. The screaming, the men in long black robes and skeletal masks. The muggles they'd tortured. Venus dragging her away, away, away. The terrible glowing mark in the sky. The black mark on Wormtail's arm, squirming around there like it was alive. _Nothing is_ ever _a coincidence, Mairead._

"Bertha Jorkins?" _A witch from the ministry has mysteriously disappeared. One of the ladies that knew about the Tournament happening at Hogwarts. And now Potter's been entered into the same Tournament?_

"Exactly... She disappeared in Albania, and that's definitely where Voldemort was rumored to be last... and she would have known the Triwizard Tournament was coming up, wouldn't she?" Albania. You-Know-Who? The crippled, ugly creature in the armchair, too weak to even raise his head up. The creature with the glowing, red eyes and reptilian features.

"Yeah, but... It's not very likely she'd have walked straight into Voldemort, is it?"

Voldemort. He kept saying Voldemort instead of You-Know-Who. Potter was. Who was that with him, also saying the wizard's name so casually like that? It was hard to listen, the sound of her heart beating was so loud in her ears.

"Listen, I knew Bertha Jorkins." The man's voice said. "She was at Hogwarts when I was, a few years above your dad and me. And she was an idiot. Very nosy, but no brains, none at all. It's not a good combination, Harry. I'd say she'd be very easy to lure into a trap." _Your Dad and me._ This person knew Potter personally. But no one could have gotten into the Common Room, or even into the Castle these days without express permission from the Headmaster... Maisie squirmed, and shifted in her chair, turning her head and looking over the top of her chair.

It was Potter. He was there, in front of the fireplace. Potter moved, shifted himself, and she saw who was inside of the fireplace. Sirius Black. Mass-murderer, escapee from Azkaban, insane madman.

This was a mistake. She'd made a choking, gasping noise, and the boy turned his head and saw her. His eyes widened and then suddenly he was coming for her.

She couldn't help it, she yelped and launched herself out of the chair, making towards the girl's staircase. But Potter was a boy, a Seeker, he was stronger and much faster than she was. He'd grabbed her around the middle, yanking her away from the stairs. She fell back, hitting the floor with a loud THUMP, with Potter on top, straddling her with a harsh grip around her wrists with one large hand and his other clamped over her mouth to stop her scream of pain and fear.

"No! Please, Maisie, please be quiet, shush-shush-shush!" Potter whispered at her, though his attempts to keep her calm clearly did the opposite when she started to cry. She was panicking, squirming underneath him and trying to bite his hand as tears flowed out of the corners of her eyes. But he was much stronger than she was, easily overpowering her slight form.

He began whispering excitedly to her in a quickened voice, his bright eyes practically glowing. "Maisie. Please please, you have to be quiet. I'll explain everything to you, just please. I'm so sorry!"

Maisie's tears didn't stop at his hurried words, they only came down harder, and her head began to get so hot and sent her temples throbbing painfully. She couldn't even think with her skull pounding so much. Not about how Harry Potter was on top of her, holding her down in a tight, tight grip, about how he was apparently conspiring with Sirius Black, the man who supposedly wanted to kill him. Or about how he knew about Bertha Jorkins and the World Cup and now Voldemort being involved in everything that was happening this year. Everything was swimming so rapidly around that she couldn't _breathe._

Potter removed his hand from her mouth when she started to breath faster and her face turned a bright shade of pink. He kept his hand on her cheek, prepared to slap it over her mouth if need.

"Please, Maisie." He pleaded with her, still holding her arms tightly in his grasp. "Let me explain. He's innocent! I swear he is!"

She wouldn't listen, she just tried to squirm out from under him as she whimpered from the threat of his warm hand on her face, but he pressed his narrow hips down against her, successfully pining her down against the floor. He was seemingly not effected even as her long legs kicked out and tried to catch him in the back.

"He was framed by Peter Pettigrew!"

Maisie stopped trying to kick him. _Wormtail raised his arm out to the crippled figure in the armchair, showing the squirming black tattoo on his forearm._ What was going on, she thought pitifully as Potter stared down at her earnestly. Her tears were cooling from his breath hitting against her face. Her head began to slow it's dull, painful throb. Her heart was still racing inside of her chest, and her magic was bouncing around inside of her.

"Wormtail...?" She muttered timidly.

Recognition. His green eyes flashed from beneath his round spectacles. He let go of her arms, leaving red marks in his wake. She'd be bruised all over once her adrenaline stopped rushing through her veins.

"How do you know that?" Potter whispered to her. He hadn't gotten off of her, he was still straddling her hips, like he wasn't quite sure she wouldn't run away to the safety of her dormitory. It made her uncomfortable, the feeling of his weight pushing the back of her hips down, down against the carpet, forcing her to accommodate him. He wouldn't budge when she tried to get out from under his form.

"I... well, I had a dream about him."

His face hardened, and his hand came up to rub at his forehead. Maisie's duller green eyes darted to his hand. She didn't need to see it to know what he was going. He was touching his scar. The scar _Voldemort_ gave to him. _The tiny, bony figure in the arm chair, with glowing red eyes. "Mairead, closer now, girl. We mustn't lose you somehow..." He had gently scolded her._

"A dream." Potter breathed. His hand drew away from his face, and she watched it go down until it was on the side of her head, on top of her hair which looked blonde from the firelight near them. Sirius Black's face had disappeared like it was never there, leaving only fire-y embers and yellow flames. If not for the boy on top of her, she'd think she had imagined it. "Tell me about it."

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 **Aggh I finished it.**

 **R &R you guys, I got a huge amount of reviews last chapter**


	8. Chapter 8

**Thanks to AJx7, Lady Ravanna, Saskia D. Fox, Forever Fanfiction Lover22, AvalonTheLadyKiller, Elvira Silver, CatchingtheDrift, Dame-Of-The-Living-Dead and three Guests for reviewing!  
**

 **It took me two tries to write this chapter and it took _forever_ to finish. **

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**November, 1994**

 **Hogwarts, Scotland**

 _ **Magyar Mennydörgő  
**_

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Maisie leaned back into the headboard behind her as she nervously cast her light blue yarn onto her large metal knitting needles. Her hands were best kept busy, especially since she felt like shaking terribly. Her body still ached, protesting even her slightest of movements, including the swift, short ones she made as she was beginning her knitting work. She pushed her other needle through the loop of yarn, wrapping it before removing the cast away and onto her free one. _Yes_ , she fretted, _this would do just fine._ She'd distract herself with knitting until Potter went back to seeing through her like she were made of saran wrap. Then she could quietly go through the motions of avoiding the Boy-Who-Lived with all of her might until the end of the school year, and he effectively forgot that she ever existed. And there was absolutely no need to give what he said to her any attention. About He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. About the dreams she's been having, that are apparently the exact same as the ones Potter had been having since the summertime. No.

No attention at all.

Her thumb was cramping up slightly as she continued her stitches hastily, her eyes glaring intently at her moving fingers. She wrapped her working yarn around the needle. A row of purl stitches. Then knit stitches. Purl stitches. Knit stitches. Her thin hands creaked, protesting their lack of rest with their noises. And then, the rest of her joined in the revolt. Her stomach began to rumble lightly within her. It even made Eugenia raise her head up from her spot on the fluffy pillow in surprise. Purl stitches. It was Sunday afternoon, and it was after lunch time, though food was likely still on the tables, being replenished by the elves. Knit stitches.

She wanted a cup of tea _so_ badly. Fruity today? Raspberry zinger, two sugars. Maybe acceptable for a slice of lemon? With nice and crumbly cranberry-orange crumpets. Maisie shifted slightly, moving her leg out along her bed, and her burnt orange colored day dress rose up to reveal the bruises along her extensive, pale legs. The dark, purple marks only accentuated how little sun her legs had gotten that Autumn, her previous sun-kissed skin having gone once her long socks and stockings were put on for that school year. The marks were ugly over her knobby knees, and she pushed her skirt back down over her knobby knees to hide them. If she went to lunch, she'd have to put on her long, navy woolen socks and dig out her new heavy duty black garters just to hold them up.

Maisie cast a mossy green eye towards her drawer that held her undergarments and frowned. Her stomach gave another rumble, and she was resigned with the fact that she'd have to take the risk and go outside.

"Drat..." She muttered, actually a little bit vexed as she turned and started looking at Eugenia who then began to groom her spotted fur, not caring that her mistresses' eyes were on her. She set her knitting work to the side—they'd be safe there on her bed with nobody else around—and slid herself off of the bed, her arms straining themselves in protest, but her hearty hankering for a cup of tea won this round. It certainly served her right when she didn't go to breakfast that morning.

She made a noise of discomfort as she took out her socks and pulled them up her far too long legs. They were warm at least, and covered up the bruises on her legs. Maisie had to turn onto her side though to clip her garters, as it pained her far too much to bend her knees. Her shoes were slipped on, and so the giraffe leg'd girl cautiously began to venture out into the large, frighteningly scarlet and gold Common Room with all of the confidence and self-assurance of a freshly born giraffe. There was a bustle of people around, as it _was_ after lunch, many of them had decided to gather around the fireplace to fight the November chill. _Mairead, closer now, girl..._

Hesitantly, Maisie peered out as she crept down the stairs with Eugenia in her sleeve and her wand in her dress pocket. She grasped it's willow handle.

As usual, no one was looking at her. Because once again, she might as well have not been there. With a stiff— _trembling_ —upper lip, the sable-haired girl left the warm Common Room and began to hastily walk to the Great Hall. _It's good I dressed in my casual attire,_ she thought, _otherwise the Slytherins might think me to be open season._ Maisie went up the stone steps to the Hall, where there were still a few people sitting and talking over pumpkin juice and turkey sandwiches. Her legs _ached._

With a terrible wince, Maisie sat down at the Gryffindor table, her legs thankful when they finally got to stop moving. Eugenia crawled out of her sleeve and onto the table, happy to nibble at a few chips that were there.

Before she could serve herself however, a person had come to join her. A person with long, flowing pale blonde hair. Her sudden appearance made her stiffen up and cower the other direction. She still wasn't quite sure about what the Beauxbatons champion was about, what with inviting her to have dinner with her and being all pretty smiles and fluttering eyelashes... And the girl's friends, who chuckled heartily with such knowing looks so often when she happened to be around her. Maisie was nervous around Fleur Delacour and the bonkers way the girl always knows where she seems to be. How in Morgana's name did she _do_ that looking the way she did?

"Bonjour." Fleur breathed to her in a strangely throaty way, as if she had a cold of some kind. It wasn't hard to get a cold around Scotland, as it got exceedingly crisp around this time of year.

Maisie gave the other girl a nod and a quiet 'hello' in return before picking out a pastrami sandwich from the golden platter in front of her. Apple slices joined the sandwich around her plate. She didn't really want them, she actually wanted one of the oranges that just seemed so far away, as they were in front a few boys who were talking boisterously with one another. She could settle with apples that lunch.

"'Ow are you?" Was another breathy response from the French girl. Merlin and Morgana... She'd never truly felt so... bland and ordinary before. She always knew that she wasn't the most interesting or pretty of girls—of course she wasn't. But now she felt like pulling all of her limbs inside of her clothing and hiding away until the Beauxbatons champion realized that she wasn't all that fascinating and left to find something else to do. Oh Gods, some of the boys in the room had even started to stare in their direction, each of them with dumb looks on their faces. Maisie's face began to burn with embarrassment.

"I-I'm okay." Lie. "How—are you?" That strange, awkward gap between her words made her want to sink down into her seat and melt until she was apart of the wood. There wasn't a spell for that, unfortunately. She forced herself to look at Eugenia, who was happily gnawing into the side of a wheat bread roll.

"I am well. Thank vou 'or asking!" Fleur said to her happily, her accent very heavy. Maisie wasn't good at French. Her accent was horribly English and the words were always so fast paced and slurred. So rather than offering to switch to the other language like her strict, white-haired Grandmother would have insisted she do out of respect, the sable-haired girl just nodded sweetly and stroked the top of Eugenia's head with her fingertip just so she could do _something_ in this situation that didn't involve looking back at the taller girl or trying to merge into the furniture beneath her.

"Who ez zis?" She had gestured a sun-kissed and perfectly manicured finger to Eugenia, who paid her no mind as she was getting a good scratching from Maisie at the moment, her little beady eyes closed in mouse-y bliss. The sable-haired girl murmured her name to her. Fleur looked pleased, and got a bit closer to her, to the point where their arms were touching. However, the smile on the French girl's mouth faded away when after a few... LONG minutes, her Headmistress, the part-giantess in a long, pale, silky looking gown gestured to her from the Great Hall's door with an elegant wave of her massive hand.

"I must go." She said mournfully, sending a look her way that once again made the young Gryffindor think that Fleur had gotten a cold from the November weather, before she smoothly rose up from the bench and glided away towards her pine tree-sized Headmistress.

Maisie pressed her palm above her ear, where it had begun to get hot and uncomfortable. She whimpered at the sensation and Eugenia looked up at her from her spot on the plate, squeaking.

/~/

On Monday, she continued to dodge through the day with her heightened sense of apprehension. She'd been afraid to sleep last night, with the possibility she'd see You-Know-Who, again gesturing her to him with an gleam in his red eyes that in her imagination would promise her pain and suffering. When she finally exhausted herself to the point where she passed out, she found herself within the comforting blackness. Seeing nothing but dark and shadows and feeling firm arms and cool hands stroking her hair and running down her arms was comforting and safe. Maisie greatly preferred these dreams.

Unlike during her day right now, as she avoided a group of Slytherin girls where at least one of them smelled like she had taken a bath in her perfume. They had caught sight of her earlier, and now low and behold, they were coming in after her. As the long-limbed Gryffindor tried her very best to not make a noise while pressed up against the bookshelf, she considered how cowardly she was for hiding. But then again, no one had ever accused her of being brave either. What else would she do? Sit there and wait for them to catch sight of her and then pin herself up against a bright white and red target for them to shoot their hexes? No sir!

"What are you girls doin' here hanging around? Get moving!" A familiar, hoarse voice barked from the shelf over. The sounds of the girls likely cursing under their breath along with their complaints came and went, fading as they likely exited the Library.

Maisie wondered what Mad-Eye was doing in the Library during this time of day. Whatever he was doing there, she would make sure to get out of his way so as not to bother the very frightening, though oddly friendly, Professor. She began to gather up her books, preparing to perhaps head off into the grounds, to that old bench with her parent's initial's carved there, if no one else were around it. The weather wasn't too terrible, there were no signs of rain, but it was quite bleak and grey.

Before the sable-haired girl could leave the space she was occupying, Professor Moody crossed by the shelves, his bright blue eye swiveling to stare at her. She flinched and tightened her hold on her large text.

"Martin-Moors." He greeted her, though it was more of an acknowledgement than an actual 'how are you, having a good day so far?' kind of greeting.

"Sir." She returned, her chin down as she slowed down her movements. Had she failed one of her assignments? Perhaps he wanted to talk to her about something she no doubt did incorrectly, as Defense certainly wasn't her best subjects. Even the theoretical knowledge had her puzzled. Why on Earth did one's thoughts effect how you perform the Imperius curse? Maisie didn't know, she couldn't even pull out enough nerve just to _stand_ in front of a trained professional's wand. The sable-haired, cowardly Gryffindor pulled her shoulders close, her long braid sliding down to her back.

Moody's old, painted eye made an odd sound as it swiveled inside of his face. Like an un-greased, wooden door closing.

"How are you?" He asked.

"Well, sir."

"Are you sure about that, missy?"

Maisie flinched, and he caught it. Of course he caught it, and of course he would then proceed to ask about it.

"Hmm?"

"Y-yes of course, I feel just dandy sir!" She said to him with false bravado along with a painfully toothy smile before she hurriedly backed out from between the extended walls of deep walnut book shelves. To her astonishment, he didn't follow her. But his swiveling, bright blue eyeball did, her entire trip out of the library. She was sure of it, even through the other students who happened to past in front of his line of vision.

* * *

Come Tuesday, every student was riled up.

Maisie had pulled on her tall brown boots after classes ended early, over the only pair of pants that she owned, which were quite frumpy, and being a depressing dark green color that didn't really suit her at all. Unfortunately, it would be quite cold and windy that day, and the sable-haired girl simply could not risk her knickers being flashed a second time that quarter, stockings or no stockings. She could barely think about that first time without turning a brilliant pink, which would then sink into a deathly white when she thought about Potter.

So she bundled up and began her walk into the Forbidden Forest, where Professor McGonagall and a few other professors had begun gesturing students inside of the large arena they had set up. It was a giant stadium, with a dozen Aurors and what seemed to be dragon-tamers (they had shiny pink burn scars all over them, which looked very similar to Blast-Ended Skrewt burns) outside and along every stairway.

As she was pushed through the stands by people behind her who didn't even realize that she wasn't a door, Maisie was plopped into one of the stands, where behind her, Fred and George Weasley were taking bets with loud shouts and boxes hanging from straps around their necks. One of them, she wasn't absolutely sure which, put their heavy shoe up on the bench she was sitting on, right up against her hip.

"Eeah!" She made a startled little noise, jolting her body forward as she whipped her head around, her long arms up in front of her chest.

The two ginger-haired boys, who were so much bigger than she was, looked surprised at the sound and looked down at her with wide eyes. The moment went on so long that it sent a flush to her face. Were they still looking at her? Oh Merlin and Morgana... They were staring at her.

Fred and George Weasley were just so startled at the sudden addition of the willowy girl in front of them that they hadn't even seen sit down in front of them. There had just been a small group of girls that went by, and then suddenly she was right there! The twins took a look at each other, thinking the same thing, while the frightened looking girl shrank down into her seat on the bench.

"Hey there!" They said eagerly, lurching forward and leaning their elbows on their knees, getting incredibly close to the younger girl. Maisie almost slipped right off her seat onto the wooden floor as she tried to back away from them. They were very intimidating boys, and they had never really turned their attention so fully onto her before, and it made her very nervous. Especially since the two of them were very much resembling a pair of hungry wolves, ready to sink their teeth into a nice tasty morsel like her.

"Hi." She said in a high and quite odd voice, clearly uncomfortable, especially when they moved another inch forward, pushing her to the very edge of the wooden bench.

The both of them looked incredibly amused by the frightened look on her face, and the two wolves might as well have been licking their big chops and tying big white flannels around their necks.

"How come-" "-we've never see you before?" Their way of speaking was dizzying and confusing, and the way they both put a leg up, one on either side of her, was a bit upsetting.

"You have though..." She mumbled softly, which the two of them clearly didn't hear. _I nearly stabbed your younger brother in the hand with an eating utensil_ , she thought grimly. _How come you don't remember that?_ But then a sharp, sudden pain hit the back of her head, like someone had just thrown a stone at her, and her hand jolted up to clutch her cranium, looking around for the culprit. But her bully searching was cut short when a very loud cannon went off, followed by a series of trumpets and horns playing.

The judges were introduced, followed by the rules and the task at hand.

Each champion had to retrieve a fake dragon egg away from a large, nesting female dragon. The first dragon? A large, shiny light blue Swedish Short-Snout that immediately made to curl up around the nest of eggs. The introduction of the dragon was given a huge round of applause, while Maisie sat stock-still in her seat, more than a little horrified, as she hoped to the gods that she wasn't about to witness someone die via a dragon.

They announced Cedric Diggory, the handsome and grey-eyed Hufflepuff champion, and he was met with even more applause, as well as people waving large banners and flags marked with Helga Hufflepuff's traditional badger and yellow/black motif. He walked in well, until the dragon sent a bright blue set of flames towards him, hitting the rock formation next to him. Many of them in the stands were on the edge of their seats, watching as the 'true' Hogwarts champion suddenly took out his wand and used a good bit of transfiguration to turn a rock into a yellow Labrador Retriever.

The transfigured dog began to run around the rocky stadium, distracting the Short-Snout from Cedric long enough for him to sneak by and pick up the changeling among the eggs. However, the dog began to bore her, and instead the large dragon sent a stream of fire towards the Hufflepuff again, only narrowly missing hitting him dead on. It singed his hair and some of his face, making him clutch his face in pain. The crowd roared around her as she clutched her two braids nervously.

The dragon tamers (if you could call sending five stunners at a single dragon, 'taming') came out and began to remove the female Short-Snout, and a Welsh Green took her place, with a brand new golden egg in the nest.

It was then Fleur Delacour who walked into the arena, in her light blue and black Tournament robes. Seeing the platinum blonde made her stomach turn in concern for the older girl. She squirmed in her seat, peaking over the people in front of her to see Fleur better as she worked her dangerously green dragon quicker than Cedric had.

She started to move in a very strange way, though the announcer seemed to know exactly what she was doing, with her pale hands flowing in front of her and her body swaying this way and that. People, and Maisie, were confused by her actions until they looked towards the dragon. The large Welsh dragon's head was following her movements, it's eyes glazed over with a milky film. She's enchanting it, Maisie realized in surprise as it's head began to lower to the rocky floor. But then, it fell down in a loud, heavy THUMP!, which sent a wave of flames towards Fleur.

Her breath caught in her throat when her blue skirt caught a flame, which made the French witch panic and smack her thigh to beat the fire down. Fleur was hurried away, and Maisie rose slightly out of her seat, her heart pounding in her chest as she watched her get escorted out of the arena.

She didn't even notice the Welsh Green leave, replaced with a handsome female Chinese Fireball.

Krum was very gruff and stiff-lipped when faced with the attractive creature. He took his large arm and pointed his wand at the dragon. The announcer began yelling when he blinded the Fireball, who let out a horrible shriek, and actually stumbled back, breaking and crushing the real eggs in the nest while Krum snatched up the gold egg, escaping with few injuries. Maisie clapped along with the rest of the crowd while the Fireball was retrieved in order to heal her eyes.

The Bulgarian Champion had points taken off for causing the destruction of the actual dragon eggs.

A sort of silence came over the stadium, knowing that the only one left was...

"Potter." Maisie muttered to herself as she watched her schoolmate stumble into the rocky arena. He looked dazed and confused, looking up at the stand and then around him at the rocks like he didn't know where he was. It made her want to shout out at him, and forced her to compare him to Cedric and Viktor Krum, who both held imposing statures, while Potter looked so much smaller than them.

He turned his head, covered by hedgehog-like hair, and saw the Hungarian Horntail, there, crouched around her eggs protectively and staring at him intently with bright, brilliant yellow eyes. Around her, and especially right behind her, from the two Weasley's, who were shouting loudly over her head. Potter rose his wand, but not at the Horntail, and shouted something. _What has he done?_ Maisie thought, dumbfounded, her face screwed up in confusion and a bit of annoyance. _You haven't done anything to her!_

But then a wheezing sound came through the air, and a broom went straight to Potter, who leapt on top of it and began flying around the arena. Ludo Bagman was screaming into his mic, the crowd couldn't hear him, they were shouting too loudly at the sight of the Fourth Year champion flew up high until he was just a small speck in the sky.

Then, he swept down, and Maisie was shoved into the seat in front of her by the Weasley's, who stood up and began waving their arms and legs as they shouted obscenities and cheers for their friend. She clutched her stomach, which had rammed into the edge in front of her. There were groans now, around her. When the willowy girl rose up to look at the stadium again, Potter had swept down and had stolen the golden egg.

"Look at that!" Bagman yelled. "Will you look at that! Our youngest champion is quickest to get his egg! Well, this is going to shorten the odds on Mr. Potter!" The keepers rushed forward.

Potter continued to fly, and the stands soon began to empty.

* * *

 **guearhgieahgtteahrogerhjioyeahohraehiaehgieahgeiogoieajgoaerigoieh**

 **giesrgheriuahgaert**

 **agh**

 **sorry it took fucking forever**

 **R &R**


	9. Chapter 9

**Thanks Lady Ravanna, acosytoken, fowlgirl19, the-quiet-girl, AvalonTheLadyKiller and one Guest for reviewing!**

* * *

 **December, 1994**

 **Hogwarts, Scotland**

 _ **Fleur Delacour and her Quest for Love**_

* * *

With December came a swift, strong chill in the winds and a thin covering of frost over everything in sight.

Maisie, sitting at the breakfast table with a red-bitten nose in her warmest winter sweater and wool cloak, attempting to recover from her cold without a trip to the Hospital Wing, received two bulky packages from an unfamiliar Great-Horned Owl, both with an attached letter. One from her Father, and the other from her Aunt Venus. She took the two large parcels thankfully and fed the owl one of the long sausages off of her plate. The large creature lingered around her, likely expecting a reply from her, as it gobbled down the sausage and shook out it's large grey-speckled wings.

She slid out her Father's letter first, from underneath the strings on the parcel and carefully set it aside before cutting the twine and lifting the lid off of the box. Inside was a new pair of winter boots, a half-size bigger than the pair of boots that had been sent to the rubbish bin last week. Puberty was hitting her like it hit teenage boys; She was growing up like a dandelion and that included her foot size, which were now a 5.5 rather than the 5 she had been three weeks ago, so Maisie had asked her Father if he would send her some new ones for the oncoming winter season. In his letter, written in the deep blue ink he was so fond of, he continued their conversation about the lighthouse Aunt Venus was renting.

Which was likely what _her_ letter was about. Maisie grinned as she glanced over the rest of her Father's writing, his blue script never changing even slightly from it's neatness. He wrote like he was writing in a notebook rather than on parchment.

She folded it up carefully and tucked it back into it's envelope before picking up her Aunt's package. Venus had packed her a box of Christmas treats, with tiny fruit tarts, treacle pies and shortbread cookies. Her loopy handwriting told her all about the lighthouse that she was renovating (with her own personal touch) and how she even had a room set up for her when she came to visit and how Maisie should definitely come by to help out once her 'uptight brother stopped complaining about bloody fucking asbestos, there was a goddamn spell for that anyway!'

The sable-haired witch plucked a piece of shortbread out of the package before closing it up again with a smile, ducking the treat in some berry marmalade before popping it into her mouth, washing it down with her hot tea.

Later that afternoon, down in the pumpkin patch at the bottom of the hill, Maisie was in the middle of trying to block a large, six-foot long Skrewt into a pillow-padded box, with her Professor standing over them with a very unsure look on his fuzzy face as the creatures were very against 'hibernating' for the winter. Shivering in the cold Scotland air, Maisie used the top of the box to block off an attack from their blasting end, which did still manage a hit to her hand, burning right through her gloves.

"Don' panic, now, don' panic!" Professor Hagrid yelled over them as the Skrewts escaped out of the boxes and began to rampage around through the pumpkin patch, burning things here, stinging others there.

One large female (or whatever they were), looked like she had begun to lunge at the cowardly Gryffindor who hadn't even noticed that half of the class had left to find safety inside of the Professor's hut. If she had, she would have surely joined them as quickly as possible. Instead, an arm wrapped around her middle and yanked her back swiftly, the Blast-Ended Skrewt's stinger only _just_ missing her by perhaps a hair. Or half a hair. Her skirt had a brand new rip through it now.

"Good job there Harry!" Professor Hagrid said in her direction. It confused her, because she wasn't Harry Potter. Didn't he know that? Or had that last Skrewt caused enough damage to give her a concussion?

"Hey, Maisie, are you alright?" The Boy-Who-Lived's voice asked from above her. His arm, which was so much warmer than just her sweater and cloak, had yet to leave from around her waist. Harry gently pulled the girl closer to himself, a bit worried that she was about to faint, as her face did turn a shade of pink when he grabbed her. A deep, strange feeling almost growled in contentment in his stomach, as he kept her to himself. She was hot underneath his touch, like she was over-heating.

"I'm fine." She whispered, attempting to ignore the way his body heat was starting to become oddly overwhelming. There was a strange tingle in her stomach, though in her growing distress, she did note that it wasn't actually unpleasant to the touch. Maisie then began to shift in his grasp, trying to make some distance between herself and Potter's chest. Harry, sensing her distress, loosened his grip on her waist, but kept a careful hand on her wrist and shoulder, which almost burned him through her thick clothing.

"Harry—" She started, about to request that he cease his burning hot touches on her person, when a cringe-inducing voice came from the fence.

"Well, well, well... This _does_ look like fun." The woman was looking in from the other side of the Professor's fence, dressed in a magenta cloak and carrying a scaly handbag over her arm. She looked like the most foul of women, Maisie thought grimly as her attempts to get out of the strong Seeker's hold were paused. The larger boy behind her had stiffened and the tall girl turned her head to look at him in concern. Was Potter alright? Who was this woman that had managed to make the Boy-Who-Lived uncomfortable?

"Who're you?" The Professor echoed her thoughts.

"Rita Skeeter, Daily Prophet reporter." Skeeter told him, beaming. But her smile looked strange and frightening, especially with that gold tooth of hers glinting in the low, cloudy afternoon light.

"Thought Dumbledore said you weren' allowed inside the school anymore?"

Maisie pried herself out of Potter's warm embrace, a bit reluctantly, as suddenly another gush of cold wind came and blew at their hair and cloaks. He let her, though he took a step in front of her, blocking her cold form from Rita Skeeter's hungry eyes. Now, he stood with Granger and Weasley, who had captured the reporter's attention long enough for her to escape into the back door of the Professor's hut, just as they began to converse about the Blast-Ended Skrewts, and how they weren't actually disgusting, horribly frightening creatures.

"Is Potty being fawned over out there by that Daily Prophet skank?" Her cousin asked from behind her. His voice made her jolt in surprise, forcing her to hit the wooden door with her shoulder.

Maisie just shrugged and wrapped her arms around herself, holding her shoulder. Her blond relative scoffed bitterly, and walked over to her side to look into the small, square window, observing Skeeter walk and talk eagerly at Potter, ignoring Weasley and Granger who both were scowling at her.

Draco strode forward gracefully, easily looking through the window that was above her head. He let out an annoyed, derisive huff before taking a step back and stooping down to snatch up his black satchel. Then, he gave her a wonderful gift. He ignored her, even though they (and his three followers) were the only ones inside of the hut, and no one would have the chance to blame him for whatever terrible hex he could have placed on her.

The platinum haired boy walked right out the back door, followed by Crabbe, Goyle, and Zabini. The tall, handsome boy walked side-by-side with her cousin rather than dutifully behind him, like those two boys did, and none of them even gave her another glance.

/~/

Maisie was bundled, with a jar full of blue-bell flames and a heating charm on her stockings and cloak. Her new boots that her Father had sent did their job well. Not even a bit of snow soaked inside of them, and they kept her feet wonderfully warm. As she sat on the carved up bench, her fingertips traced the 'H.M. + M.M' that her parents had left in the wood. _Mairead, my dearest..._ She drew her legs up on top of the bench, pulling them to her chest tightly, a newfound panic in her veins as she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to make it go away.

"Ahhnn!" She cried out loudly, her hands trembling as she clutched at her hair. Gods, his voice! It was there, like he was just standing behind her, whispering in her ear!

 _The weak, snake-like creature raised up it's heavy head to look at her... Blackness, warm, comforting hands stroking back her hair and holding her hand..._

Maisie opened her mouth to let out another cry, however nothing but a poor and weak croaking came out. She clutched at her throat, leaning heavily against the back of the bench as her heart beat frantically inside of her chest. _I'm having a panic attack_ , she realized with a gasp, frightened as she grabbed the bench tightly, feeling the numerous carvings underneath her fingers as her grip began to strain and cause pain to her hand. This was some kind of madness, what was happening. Why now, why was this happening _right now_? That morning she had smiled at her letters from home, feeling just fine, but now only hours later she was freaking out because... He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was in her dreams!? She had allowed herself to think about it and now it was hitting her in full-force.

" _May-sea?_ "

The sable-haired Gryffindor gasped loudly, her leg falling off the bench and knocking over her jar of blue-bells, the spell dissipating away.

"Fleur!" She exclaimed in surprise, backing herself further into the bench, her legs falling back down onto the ground with two 'crunches' when they hit the thin layer of snow.

The beautiful french witch frowned, her expression riddled with worry. "Are vou okay?" She asked her, picking up the fallen glass jar and replacing the spell of flames inside of it with her light colored wand. Maisie was about to say yes, that she was fine and how all was well, but the look in the other girl's eyes proved that she absolutely wouldn't believe her if she claimed that she was well. _How much had she seen of that_ , she wondered nervously.

So she decided not to answer her, instead grasping the end of her wool skirt and twisting it in her delicate hands.

"Come with me." Fleur then insisted with a glint in her light blue eyes before reaching over and covering her hand with her own. Her gloves were of much finer quality than Maisie's. Then again, she likely didn't have to wrestle with and get attacked by Blast-Ended Skrewts.

"But I have a class..." She lied with a tired tone as the other witch pulled her to her feet with her hands. They stood at the same height now, when just a month ago they were some centimeters apart.

"Non. Vou don't." The Beauxbatons champion said matter-of-factually to her, with a slight edge to her voice, seeing through her flimsy lie. How did she know that she didn't have a class? The other Gryffindors that were _in_ her classes didn't know that she had classes with them, so how did this new, strange witch know? Maisie considered this in a state of numb confusion as the older girl began to gently, yet firmly, lead her to the large carriage that had fit all of the students from her school along with their giantess Headmistress inside. The same that they had arrived in on Halloween night.

The snow crunched beneath their feet.

It was very femininely decorated inside of the large, light-colored carriage. Or perhaps that was just the French architecture of it, a strong contrast to the firm and sturdy Hogwarts castle the carriage was parked by. It was very large there, consisting of two hallways, with rows of doors down each one. Fleur took her down the left hallway, inside of a door labeled in french (they were actually ALL in french, and in a decorative cursive that she couldn't decipher) before sitting her down inside on top of a tall, high-backed chair that was cushioned in white silk.

"Ztay h're for me." The elder girl said to her, putting her cool hands on her shoulders before turning away towards a glass cabinet that was pressed against the wall, her hair sending a wave of what must have been perfume, Maisie's way.

Fleur removed a shiny, golden bottle out of the cabinet and uncorked it. Inside was a warm, sweet mead that was a bit similar to British butterbeer. She took a look behind her and bit her bottom lip. Maisie was holding her cloak tightly in her hands, shivering slightly, and Fleur was struck by how beautiful the other girl was. She found it strange how quickly this girl had taken her heart, but then the part-veela had always fancied others easily. Her first love had been when she was a little nine-year-old girl, and she had seen how nice her neighbor, a boy who was a year younger than her, looked in his news-boy cap. They had held hands for two weeks, and she had kissed him on the cheek behind her Father's shed.

The blonde poured two goblets of the mead.

Fleur had been walking out to the carriage from the Great Hall when she heard Mairead's screams. She'd dropped everything and had begun sprinting, her wand out and ready, fully expecting someone to be attacking the girl. She was prepared to valiantly rescue and protect her. But all there was was a bundled up Gryffindor girl, rocking back and forth and grabbing chunks of her long hair in her hands. And the french witch was still prepared to do so.

Determined, and with a heart that ached and reached out for the other woman, she took her back to her room, and hoped that her friends would not barge in with their laughs and knowing looks and ruin this. This was not the time to woo Mairead, the girl she had been quietly (or perhaps not so quietly after all...) admiring these past few months. Her attempts to get to know her, both alone and during mealtimes, had started to become less stiff and strange. True, the younger woman had been a bit more distressed lately, but she had generally been more talkative with Fleur, and she was taken by all of the little habits that the sable-haired witch had.

She adored tea, ( _often a trait among these Englishmen_ , Fleur had thought a week ago, as Mairead poured her third cup of tea) and had a certain way of preparing each cup, and it reminded her of the way her Father absolutely had to let a bottle of wine breathe before drinking it, even if they come in late for a dinner party, where everyone was already seated and ready for dinner, he refused to let anyone take a glass unless it _breathed_ first.

Mairead struck her as an old soul when they spoke quietly (her pulse racing, filled with a fondness and girlish like for the doe-eyed witch) during their moments together. Despite the modern time they were in, she hardly ever wore trousers and even still clipped her stockings with garter-belts. With her long limbs and delicate structure that was still blooming into womanhood, Fleur knew that she would be a very beautiful and graceful witch when she came of age.

Seeing her, the girl whose eyes lit up when she had her hands wrapped around a teacup and who liked to charm steam into animals and dancing flowers, broken down and screaming alone on an old, carved bench, upset her deeply.

No one else had heard her cry, the groups of shivering students were even walking around the campus closer than Fleur had been when she heard her, but they didn't react. They kept walking, like they were deaf to the world around them. Deaf to one of their own screaming in pain.

The french witch tightened her breathing before turning around and sitting on her trunk that was in front of her bed. She set down her own goblet before taking hold of Maisie's hand and pushing the cold drink into it.

"Drink. S'il vous plaît."

"...Thank you." She returned, her voice quite lackluster, especially since she wasn't really trying to make an effort to pretend that she was alright. Maisie had unconsciously been blocking out what Potter had told her, with even her magic assisting her in creating a wall in front of it. But now that it was broken, and she was forced to stare into the truth of what was happening...

 _I have to tell someone_. It was all that was going through her head right now, was to shout that something wicked was happening to her, that someway, somehow, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was in her head and doing something to her! How else could she have had the exact same dream as Potter? How was it that... strange things were happening? The pains, the aches, the longing and wonderful feelings she had during those dreams. _If I tell someone, they'll think I'm loony..._ Maisie thought mournfully, gripping her hands around the cool, metal goblet tightly.

She would never tell someone. Because when she was inside of those dreams, with the warm and caring feelings curled up inside of her for that large snake and sunken creature, she had never felt more loved and comforted.

" _May-sea._ "

Maisie turned to the french witch, her eyes still on the liquid in her goblet.

"I'm sorry, Fleur." She whispered. "I-I really can't stay..." A twinge of regret filled her belly as she saw the girl's eyes lose their pretty sparkle.

"Vou 'ust tell me 'hat has 'appened." Fleur said sternly, though her tone was forgiving and not at all brash towards her.

"Please, I... I had just gotten a test back from Defense." Maisie made up, though she had gotten a test back a few days ago. Barely an A. "I'm going to fail, and I, well, I just sort of freaked out! I'm sorry that I worried you, I really am, Fleur." Her excuse looked like it was getting through to her. Her face softened, back to it's usual, perfect beauty that made her feel quite uncomfortable.

"'hat vas ze test on?" The blonde witch inquired after a few moments of considering her.

"The rise and fall of the Dark Arts." Maisie said. It had almost completely been practical knowledge, of which spells were used and how, as well as the introduction and popularity of the Unforgivable Curses in the Middle Ages. Moody was reluctant on the history, more forward on being prepared for the possibilities of spells coming back in fashion from the days of crucifixes and hangings.

"...And vou eel vezet the 'ospital wing? 'Or a potion?"

Maisie nodded her head. A lie. She'd been taking them all week already.

* * *

 **look, things are happening. we're also heading up to the Yule Ball! hooray! it's date night at hogwarts, and it's horrible**

 **R &R**


	10. Chapter 10

**Thanks Lady Ravanna, fowlgirl19, the-quiet-girl, AvalonTheLadyKiller, Lizzy B and one Guest for reviewing!**

 **Also, a huge shoutout to Forbidden Moons who decided to review like, every chapter, and break the review-page in the process of that dream! Shoot for the sky, dudesicle!**

 **And hooray for my tenth chapter!**

* * *

 **December, 1994**

 **Hogwarts, Scotland**

 _ **Yuletide Fever**_

* * *

"Potter! Weasley! Will you pay attention?" Professor McGonagall suddenly called out to the two boys whose heads had been previously ducked together and focused on what they were doing underneath the desk. The entire class, who had finished turning guinea-fowls into guinea-pigs (Maisie's had only one feather left that stuck into the fur, and McGonagall had given her an 'E' grade, because it was only an unnoticeable fluff-feather that stuck to the creature's breastplate rather than a full coat of them like Longbottom had done with his.) were now sitting quietly, some of them still marking down the pages for their homework that evening.

Maisie turned her head, like much of the class did, when McGonagall pointed the two boys out to the class.

"Now that Potter and Weasley have been kind enough to act their age." The Professor said, with a stern and silencing look towards the back row of students. When she was content with the class, she continued, putting her hand flat on her desk. "I have something to say to you all. The Yule Ball is approaching—a traditional part of the Triwizard Tournament and an opportunity for us to socialize with our foreign guests. Now, the ball will be open only to fourth-years and above—although, you may invite a younger student if you wish—"

She thought that McGonagall looked more stiff than usual when speaking about a ball. The woman looked especially irritated when Lavender Brown let out a giggle that she seemed unable to contain, and her best friend Parvati elbowed her in the side. Maisie noticed that almost every girl around her had started to squirm and shift in their seats, like they desperately wanted to turn around and speak with one of their friends, like Lavender and Parvati were trying to. A subtle longing made itself in her stomach, but instead she shook it away, thinking that Fleur had probably known about this Ball far before they did. Maybe she'd want to talk about it with her now that it wasn't a secret?

"Dress robes will be worn, and the ball will start at eight o'clock on Christmas Day, finishing at midnight in the Great Hall. Now then—" She stopped to cast a deliberate look around the room. "The Yule Ball is of course a chance for us all to... let our hair down..." Her voice was soaked in pure disapproval.

Brown let out another harsh giggle, smothered by her hand over her mouth.

"But that does NOT mean that we will be relaxing the standards of behavior we expect from Hogwarts students. I will be most seriously displeased if a Gryffindor student embarrasses the school in _any_ way." She stressed with one more glance around at her students, her eyes squinted even slightly at them, almost as a warning. It made Maisie want to burst into similar giggles as Brown had done, as McGonagall looked like an old Grandmother warning her Grandkids from... having _coitus_ in the middle of a school garden.

The bell ringing distracted her from her need to laugh, and she packed her bag with one hand before putting it up on her shoulder and leaving the classroom with the rest of the Gryffindor fourth-years.

The rest of the week was madness.

The girls in her dorm compared dresses almost every night, talking with each other on Lavender Brown's bed with their light on late into the hours of the night, looking down at catalogs and Witch Weekly, comparing this and that.

Maisie thought about the dress that was in her armoire, still encased in it's cover ('Magical encasement for your wardrobe! Drop it, dip it, spill it, send a hex at it! Will forever protect your robes and gowns!™') and wondered if she should send an owl to Venus. She always enjoyed frivolous things like this. Whenever they were invited to balls by some relatives, she dressed herself to the nines. Even when the Malfoy's sent them invitations she went with her brother and graciously spoke with her sister-in-law's cousins. Maisie had stopped going to them after her mother passed, so she wasn't entirely sure if Venus even really attended them anymore.

In classes, getting the attention of students had perhaps gotten even more difficult for Professors.

Even in Potions, with Professor Snape going through the rows of desks in his long black robes and a menacing look on his sour face wasn't enough to keep students from whispering under their breaths and looking at dress robe designs.

Maisie was nervous to even be in the classroom, as Snape was obviously incredibly ticked off that day, more than his usual amount of irritation and silent disapproval, and the sable-haired witch wondered if he had told his Slytherins the same information as Professor McGonagall had told them a few days ago, that if they embarrassed him they'd be hung by their noses in the dungeons, or something like that. Parkinson, and her group of girls must have missed his message, because Snape sent a silencing sneer towards her several times, though when Parvati began to whisper, he took five points away from them.

Millicent Bulstrode, her partner, stirred their potion clockwise as directed and Maisie picked up a vial and poured a ladle of their finished antidote inside of it. As per usual, Snape only glanced at their antidote for a moment before continuing on his way without a word on their work.

/~/

Fleur's french group of girlfriends, each of whom were staring at her with hungry, eager eyes, must have been part of some insane French cult of some kind. That must have been why they had brought out dozens of containers of creams, salves and potions and wanted to put them all over each others faces. One of them smelt strangely of avocado and the other was obviously just raw sugar and some sort of thickener.

Perhaps they were drunk? She heard that the French were often drunk at any time of day, perhaps that's why they were laughing with each other so often.

Maisie wished Fleur would come back. She had left just a few minutes ago, leaving her to the girls whose names she had only just memorized. They were nice girls, sure, but they spoke with such heavy accents, and would occasionally just forgo English altogether and speak in their native tongue. Her understanding of the words they spoke was slim, and she wished she was better at it. Or at least better at translating charms.

One of the girls who had black, wavy hair and strikingly flirtatious eyes, offered Maisie her hand. "Eef vou would like, I could feex your nails? For ze ball?" She asked her, in a way that sounded like she felt sorry for her in some way, though that sound was covered mostly by her accent and her excitement. It sent a ton of lead into her stomach and now she was praying silently to the Gods that Fleur would walk in the door. Fleur never looked at her like she was someone to be pitied. And sure, she sometimes made her feel nervous and uncomfortable, but she was alright.

"You don't have to. I can take care of stuff like that." She said, affronted.

"Of co'arse you can. Eet ez just, erm—"

"Vee just zhought zat maybe you'd like a ehm, french ztyle!" The girl, whose name might have been Marguerite, interrupted.

Maisie was ashamed at the way she cowered. "Um, no thanks. Besides, I don't even have a date for the ball... I doubt that it matters if I paint them or anything special like that."

She hated the way they all shared a look with each other, knowing something that she clearly did not. Her prayers to the gods must have been answered, because Fleur came back with a stack of magazines underneath her arm and her lavender-colored cloak thrown over her shoulder. Relief flooded through Maisie's chest, and she didn't feel entirely that bad about scooting away from the other girls and towards the more familiar french witch.

"I 'ave found all ze cateelogues!" The Beauxbatons champion sang cheerily. The other girls clapped sarcastically, and (Marguerite?) sounded like she was making fun of the other witch in french. Fleur stuck her thumb in between her teeth at Marguerite, a foul expression on her beautiful face that was clearly meant as a joke. Maisie didn't understand the gesture, but thought that perhaps it was just because of a cultural difference. A series of snickers and girlish laughs echoed throughout the small room and Fleur dropped the catalogs down on the blue bedspread. They were dress catalogs, she realized. Just like what Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil whispered over at night.

"May-sea? 'Ave vou alreesi peeked out a gown?" Another girl (Rosella?) asked her. Her voice was thick and throaty, like if an attractive toad were to start suddenly speaking in haiku and rhymes.

"I already have a dress actually, up in my dorm."

That was clearly not the right thing to say, because two of the girls' eyes almost sparkled in response.

Fleur was no help to her, as she was flicking through her catalog with Marguerite, muttering with her. Maisie was extremely thankful that supper had rolled around soon afterwards. She had no experience (unless she counted shopping trips with her Aunt Venus) with girl talk. Or rather, any kind of friendly talk at all. And she was so hopelessly unsure about the conversation that she was definitely positive that all of those girls—with the exception of Fleur (maybe)—didn't really like her. It sent an hot clenching feeling to her stomach, and it was embarrassing to think that those girls were pretending to be her friends because they thought she was pathetic.

At dinner, conversation was widespread, and she actually snapped at somebody for knocking into her on the way to the Gryffindor table. It was Colin Creevey, and he apologized once with a pink face before scampering away with his large camera.

Maisie let a huff out of her nose before grasping the back of her neck, where a chill had raised itself there. Even with the hot, burning fireplaces, there were still cold spots throughout the castle (or was that the ghosts?)

She crossed her arms around herself and sat down at an empty place at the long table. It being around Christmas, there were plenty of winter dishes across the tables. Pumpkin soup, hearty beef stews and bowls of mashed sweet potatoes were spread across the tables. The young Gryffindor was pouring herself a cup of spiced chai for the evening when it seemed the most interesting event on earth happened.

A girl from Hufflepuff who looked like she was at most thirteen, approached the table and tapped Harry Potter on the shoulder with some clear hesitation in her actions and stature.

Potter looked up from his meal and back at the girl, and to the girl's horror, so did the three boys around him.

"Hello Potter." She said in a surprisingly steady voice, considering she looked close to running away at the moment. "Would you like to accompany me to the Yule Ball at Christmas?" Silence. Dead silence met that innocent, nervous request. Not just from Potter, but the entire table, no, the Great Hall completely seemed to have paused all of their actions, their spoons still half-way to their mouths, to listen to what Harry Potter had to say. Even Maisie had stopped moving, and now her tea was overflowing from her cup, filling up the saucer underneath it.

Potter looked sick, while the Hufflepuff looked ill. And to Maisie's horror, the Boy-Who-Lived looked around the room. He looked and he stopped when his eyes landed on her, and on her over-flowing teacup. Which meant so did the younger girl, whose eyes immediately began to water with tears when she saw the boy she asked to the dance look at another girl during her request.

"Uhh, no." He said quickly, turning his head away and trying to play off like he hadn't been staring at Maisie at all. Barely anyone had really noticed. The girl, whose face was now overflowing with tears, turned and left the Great Hall as quickly as she possibly could, eyes following her as she fled.

/~/

"Can you believe he said no to her like that?" Brown was whispering as Maisie crept up the stairs and into her dormitory. It was dark outside their window, and it was once again that she was expecting another evening of shutting her curtains around her bed and trying to ignore her roommates.

All of them.

Hermione Granger seemed to have joined the group of Slytherins who'd decided they didn't like her. But then, when Maisie thought about it, she decided she didn't really like that annoying know-it-all anyway. The way she'd walk through the halls side-by-side with other, actual students at the school, pretending like she was the same as everybody else. She knew nothing about the traditions. She worshipped a deity that commanded the deaths of witches and wizards out of fear and weakness.

 _No_ , Maisie shook her head, removing her night gown from her dresser, _Hermione Granger is just a girl who is desperately trying to compensate for something she'll never have the chance to achieve in a world that could never be her own. And it doesn't matter if she doesn't like me._

A sudden, unexpected squeal came from behind her that made her jump and knock her head against her bedpost. She let out a shout and grasped the back of her head, whipping around with her wand in her hand. Instead of a Basilisk or a troll, it was just Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, both of them looking at her and pointing their fingers at her armoire. The door to it had creaked open, and inside showed her dress covered in it's protective wrappings.

"You already have your dress!?" Lavender exclaimed from her place on Parvati's bed.

"Err, yes?" She replied, cautiously, like the sandy-haired girl would suddenly leap out at her.

"Oh! Let us see, pretty please?" Parvati cooed, getting up and pushing her long ebony hair back over her shoulder as she walked over to Maisie's section of the room, her pretty light teal pajamas touching an area of the dormitory it never has before.

"Yes, do!" Lavender chirped, dropping her catalogue.

"Oh, but, I don't think I'll even really go to the Ball. I mean, well obviously I'll show up but, I don't have a date so it doesn't exactly matter does it?" The sable-haired Gryffindor sat down on her bed, holding onto her night dress as she looked at the other two girls wearily. They'd never really talked to her directly like this before. The only spoken tidbits they'd had were 'Watch out, I'm coming out of the loo and I've forgotten my towel' or 'Have you seen my face cleanser? It's in a green bottle!'

And now they were towering over her.

Well, Lavender was. She was a tall bird, just like she was.

"Oh don't worry about that. I haven't gotten a date yet either." Parvati told her, a benign smile on her pretty face. "Boys are fickle, frightened creatures."

"We might have to put out a trail of chocolate frogs for them to follow." Lavender added, covering her big smile with her hand. Her fingernails were coated in cotton balls, stuck there with tape.

"You're right. Or Bertie Botts." Parvati added with a giggle. Even without makeup on the Indian girl's face, she was stunningly pretty. Almost like Fleur, with her delicate and powerful features. And yet, they were so different looking, despite their shared beauty. At least Lavender looked strange, what with her love of goopy, green facial products and hair potions.

"So you'll get a date, no problem. So _please_ let us see your dress!" Lavender pleaded with her.

"Oh please. Just leave her alone about her dress, you'll see it at the Ball anyway." Granger snapped from the door. She was removing her heavy woolen cloak from around her shoulders, hanging it up on the hanger near her bed.

"Oh c'mon Hermione, it won't do any harm." Lavender said, a bit of a bite in her tone towards her roommate.

Granger rolled her eyes and sat at her bed, removing her shoes. "I'm just tired of hearing you two talking about it all day and night. The Ball is in a week, and we still haven't finished our winter exams yet!"

"It's always back to exams and tests with you. I think you just get aroused at the very mention of our OWLs, Hermione." Parvati teased her lightly with a glint of amusement in her eye. Granger blushed a shade of pink and turned away from them, picking out her night clothes before shutting her curtains with a final huff of her own. It was all sort of good fun, wasn't it?

But then, perhaps Granger didn't understand that.

* * *

 **I'm really cutting it close here.**

 **This chapter is shorter than the others. And it's kind of wigging me out. But there's nothing else to add, so I guess we all will have to get over it. The next chapter will be longer, because there will be a Ball proposal and the ball itself.**

 **so hooray for that, something to be eager about**

 **Review/Follow/Favorite you guys!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Hooray for AubriannaRose, AvalonTheLadyKiller, Lady Ravanna and the-quiet-girl for reviewing the last chapter!**

 **reviews make me update faster! the more the merrier!**

 **also some rated M territory here, nudity and teenage arousal. basically anything you'll experience while living in a Co-Ed private school at 15**

* * *

 **December, 1994**

 **Hogwarts, Scotland**

 _ **The Ice Palace**_

* * *

A hearty chill swept through the Castle, to which everyone gave a collective shiver before placing a heating charm on themselves.

Maisie, for once, was sitting in the armchair by the fire in the Gryffindor Common Room. A thermos of hot tea was on the short side table next to her, along with a box of Yuletide sweets from the bakery her father liked to visit during the winter time. Classes were officially over with, and the contented girl settled into a bit of leisure in her winter break. Like many others, she'd signed up to stay for Winter Break, mostly at her Father's insistence (though she'd better show up for Easter!) He'd told her to enjoy the Ball, and use it perhaps as a chance to get a bit more noticed. With his letter and sweets, came a bag of gold and her Mother's jewelry.

It glinted from the fabulous, white furnishings that they lived in. Maisie didn't want to take the lavish jewelry out. They were too light and pretty and they sparkled in the light from the diamonds that adorned them.

 _If I took them out, they'd break somehow,_ she thought. _I'll ruin them._

Maisie picked out a rum ball from the box, biting into and chewing it as she looked at the delicate silver creations that her Mother used to wear. The earrings, two long chandelier type that were made of crystal and diamond were once tugged on by herself when she was just a little a squirming baby. Her tiny hands would grasp them and parts of her Mother's blonde hair, only to be stopped in their attempt to claim them by her Father's worrying pause. The fire crackled, a small burst of flame coming out from the wood.

Then, a moaning, groaning Ronald Weasley came in from the Common Room door, his face and ears a bright pink and being held by both his sister and Katie Bell, who were leading him over to an armchair in the corner.

"I'm so sorry Ron. It doesn't matter, it really doesn't." Katie was speaking to him in a not-so-hushed tone.

"You'll be just fine Ron, it'd be better to go alone than to go with that witch anyway." Ginny added with a nod of her head, holding her brother's forearm and patting his bicep.

Their words clearly meant nothing to the youngest Weasley male, as he seemed to have taken on a kind of numbness, where the whole school could go down to the ground and he wouldn't notice. What HAD happened, Maisie wondered, turning around in her armchair to look in the redheads direction. It was easy to sum up that he'd asked out a girl and she'd said no. But which witch could cause such a terrible reaction in a person?

"I can't believe I... I-I just― _Fleur Delacour_!" Ronald moaned pitifully.

Maisie was almost leveled.

He'd asked out _**Fleur**?_

Had this just happened?

The sable-haired witch turned away from the scene, just as it looked like the Weasley boy was about to be sick in his sister's arms. A gut-clenching feeling occurred in her stomach, and Maisie grasped her abdomen at the curious emotional feeling. What was this feeling? She wasn't sure. But she certainly didn't like it and didn't even think about it when she stood up and began packing away her things, about to head up and leave them in her trunk before... What? Would she go and ask Fleur about it? _It was rather late,_ she thought, _maybe I should wait until tomorrow morning..._

"Maisie! Wait up, hang on!"

She was already halfway up the girl's dormitory stairs. Suddenly, it turned into a slide beneath her feet, and she slammed front-forward into the marble, before sliding down and landing on a heap that felt like limbs and a torso. Pain radiated from her cheat from the protective case that her Mother's jewelry was in. Her Christmas treats however, were now smashed and all over her clothing and stuck in clots in her long hair, as well as all over said slide. The remnants would be gone by morning when the House Elves came in the night, unseen.

Below her, the heap groaned and began to shift. His head was between her knees, while she was bent up and dazed across his torso, her head against the carpeted floor (which covered wood and stone.)

"I'm so sorry..." He mumbled, with a twinge of pain and confusion in his voice. She could feel his breath on the inside of her legs, through her cream-colored stockings. The sensation sent a tingle of excitement between her legs, a sensation that she most definitely knew she shouldn't yet experience! Deeply embarrassed and baffled, she rolled off of Potter's body and snapped her legs together, pushing her dark maroon winter dress back over her legs where the strap to her garter belt had begun to show.

"I-I forgot that the staircase does that." Potter stuttered, getting back on his knees, his own face a tint of pink as he watched her push her dress back over her smooth thigh that had peaked out over her stockings edges, a familiar feeling of want rooting itself in his pelvis. Harry scooted slightly back from her, messing up his jeans by sinking them in the fallen Christmas treats.

"Oh Merlin." Maisie murmured, scooping up the destroyed things into the box that they had come in. Harry quickly moved to assist her, pushing and moving the crushed fudge, broken pieces of peppermint bark and flat rum balls towards her, scooping some up with his hands and dumping them in the box for her. She thanked him gently and wished that she hadn't pulled part of her hair back, then she could hide behind it rather than let Potter see her face turn pink. Then again, most people had stopped looking at them by now. Only Granger and the two Weasley's were actually watching them at the foot of the stairs, scrambling around for Winter sweets.

"DoyouwannagototheBallwithme?" The words were all scrambled, shoved together and awkward, but then, Maisie had a large deal of experience deciphering such sentences of her own.

"Wha―Beg pardon?" She spoke, dumbfounded, eyes wide shock. Potter repeated himself, slower. This was the second time he had asked someone today, in the same exact way, even. Though he hadn't knocked Cho down and ended up between her legs. He didn't even see Cho's legs as much as he saw Maisie's, who was so fond of skirts and long, warm looking socks and stockings. _She has nice legs,_ he thought.

"The Ball. Would you like to be my date for it?"

Numb, dazzled and extraordinarily confused, Maisie stumbled into the empty bathroom of her dormitory. She dropped her towel on the golden rack on the wall. It slipped and fell to the floor.

Had the Wizarding World lost it's marbles completely without her knowing about it? Had the attack on the World Cup set off a series of events that would somehow change absolutely everything she knew? Maisie wished that she hadn't signed up to stay for Christmas Break. Now, all she wanted was to be home and curl up in front of the fireplace, listening to her Father hum to old music while he baked.

He'd written in his letter to try to get more noticed at the Ball. She knew what that meant, it meant 'Try to get yourself noticed by a potential suitor.' She knew her Father thought that if her Mother were still alive, that it would be easier to get her a suitor. Because her Mother was related to the Malfoy's, a prestigious line. Many Purebloods would crave a wife who came from such stock. But with her Mother deceased, almost nobody made the connection between the two families. Making it that much harder, and making her dowry that much larger in order to tempt good husbands to her.

Going to the Ball with Harry Potter... It wasn't exactly what Henry Moors had in mind.

/~/

Waking up on Christmas Day was like waking up in the middle of an attack on Hogwarts.

Lavender and Parvati were both like madwomen, each with a stack of presents at the front of their beds, wrappings all around them. She'd woken up late that day, at twelve in the afternoon, unusual for her. Both of them were in various states of dressed, as Lavender was naked while loosely wrapped in a robe, her pale breasts bouncing ridiculously as she began pulling on long, dark stockings over her legs. Her hair was wet and wrapped up in a towel which was moving this way and that like the Leaning Tower of Pisa, suggesting she'd just had a shower. Parvati had no such robe, and was instead sitting at the dresser with a Hogwarts towel wrapped around her bare, dark shoulders, all the while looking at herself in the mirror as she applied makeup to her pretty, narrow face.

Granger was no where to be seen, and she was glad for it. She didn't want to see the other girl like she was seeing Brown and Patil. Then again, she wasn't all that fond of seeing _them_ like this either.

 _Fleur wants me at her carriage to prepare,_ Maisie remembered. She'd outright ordered her to, 'Come to my room as zoon az pozzibill!'

So the cowardly Gryffindor girl got up and pulled off her nightgown, replacing it with a green, cashmere dress with long sleeves, forgoing putting on a brassiere, since she couldn't wear one with her gown anyway, the front was much too sheer. She found a bag in her trunk and packed her Mother's jewelry, her undergarments and the little amount of makeup she had. The box with her shoes refused to fit inside of the bag, so she shrunk them first. The snow was not so bad outside, only a light amount just adding to the fallen snow that had occurred in the middle of the night.

Maisie threw on her cloak, picked up her bag and removed her dress from her small armoire before carrying it out the door. Passing down the staircase, dodging the occasional girl whom of which were wrapped it towels and whose faces were covered in green salves and scrubs, she realized that she was about to be one of them. And as she headed down, past where a snowball fight had begun between some of the Weasley boys and others, down the hill and into the light blue carriage, Maisie thought that much of this was simply unnecessary.

Girls were rushing this way and that, along with boys, down the halls. This time EVERYONE seemed to have things on their faces and at least half of them were partially nude. She escaped down the left hall and into Fleur's room, trying to avoid all of the strange, naked Frenchmen.

She wasn't naked, thankfully. She was wrapped up in a light blue silken robe, and was currently wrapping her long blonde hair in pink curlers.

"May-zee! Bonjour, come seet down oui?" She ordered her, waving her free hand behind her to her bed. Maisie nodded and sat down, removing her cloak from around her shoulders. It was incredibly warm inside the Beauxbatons carriage, and it was a nice change compared to hovering around the stove heater inside of the girl's dormitory.

"Vou 'ave washed?" Fleur inquired, prepared to offer use of her private shower.

"Last night I did. I didn't want to fight with my dorm mates over it."

Maisie unshrunk her shoe box, removing the white high heels from it. They had straps that went in delicate, simple patterns from her toes to her ankles, with a silver buckle at the sides and tiny crystal embellishments over the strap crossings. They were a bit extravagant, since they were just shoes. She didn't want to know what they cost, but they were likely just a small dent out of her dowry.

"'Ere. Put zis on." Fleur instructed her, her hair now up in curlers. The french witch waved her wand around her head before handing her a robe that matched her own.

"Is there a-?"

"Over zhere."

Maisie exited into the bathroom, carrying the robe with her.

Fleur waited for a few minutes, removing her make up from her dresser. Cremes, powders and other such things all from her native France. She and Maisie weren't the same skin tone, but perhaps she could use the eye shadows? Girls typically just bought lipsticks and glosses and such first, so perhaps she could count that there was a tube in her things. She picked up the bag Maisie had left and began to lay everything out on her bed. Out came a fine, dark jewelry box that was open a smidgeon, a clear make up bag, and a pink bottle of perfume that smelled like it had possibly expired somehow.

At the very bottom of the bag was a short pink candle.

"Does over there mean 'go away, I'm gonna go through your things' in French?" Maisie asked curiously, holding her bundle of clothes closely.

Fleur dropped the bag, unashamed, but surprised that she was caught. "Oui. I mean, yes of course it does, silly English woman." She said sourly, in her best attempt to mask her accent.

"That was actually kind of good." Maisie complimented her with a small, dazzlingly pretty smile that caused a flush of affection to swell up in Fleur like the lungs of a man who was having his last breath. She jerked her shoulder forward with a careless grin of her own as she attempted to quell her need to frantically kiss the other girl in a way that certainly didn't suit the actions of a Triwizard Tournament. She'd want to kiss her in a much more dignified and sensual way than that for their first romantic interlude.

"Well-" Fleur then started, suddenly very self-conscious about how she wasn't fully dressed. "Let's get ztarted, shall we mon cheri?"

/~/

The Great Hall was made up to somehow be a ice palace. Icicles hung from the ceilings and fairy lights (as in actual fairies, glowing and watching them from up above) floated up around the room. It looked almost nothing like the Great Hall she knew. Everything became lighter, brighter and made to look as if it had been covered in frost crystals and glittering snow.

Fleur had left her with a warm touch to her shoulder when her date, Roger Davies, the Ravenclaw Quidditch captain came to escort her, looking completely dazed to see her. She felt bad for the poor bloke, since the french witch seemed reluctant to go with him, despite that she had agreed to go with him. Maybe she had wanted to go with somebody else? Maisie wasn't sure, and she looked down at her hands, rather than up to see that Potter had begun to descend on her. Her hands were more beautiful than they've ever been before.

"You look so beautiful!" Parvati exclaimed. She was on Ron Weasley's frayed arm, looking gorgeous in her sari which was in a shade of dark pink. A piece of jewelry hung from the part in her black hair, resting on her forehead, and her eyes were shadowed in gold and brown. The gold bangles on her arms jingled as she reached over and touched her shoulder, which was covered in light sheer sleeves, looking over her flowy, white-creme colored gown. Maisie blushed and wrung her hands together.

"Thank you." She replied shyly. She'd only glanced at the mirror in Fleur's room before the carriage began to move, so she wasn't entirely sure what she looked like. Maisie knew that without the warming charm placed on the dress, she'd be freezing cold, as there were so many sheer places. Her breasts were only covered by the designs placed there, in pretty white floral additions.

"Where is Hermione?" Weasley asked Potter, who only shrugged before offering Maisie his arm, not quite as graceful or sophisticated as the other men in the hall who were doing the same thing.

She took it silently, though now was attempting to keep her chin up, remembering what this Ball was for. To parade herself around in hopes a Pureblood boy, soon to be a man, was going to like what he sees. If he saw her at all.

"We'll be going now." Potter murmured to her, his arm, even from underneath his dark robes, felt incredibly hot to the touch.

"Alright." She said back, a bit mournfully. This was the beginning of the end for her. Her potential husband may want her to drop out of Hogwarts. He may not want her to have a job or career. There was no telling what possible suitors she may receive after tonight. Her only hope would be that she could have one that was kind enough to leave her some dignity when he chose his lover. She, of course, wasn't allowed one. But then, she'd have her children that she bore him.

He lead her through the Hall towards the candle adorned dinner tables and Maisie struggled not to cower into his black robes as they passed by Malfoy and Parkinson, whose pink robes suggested that her parents were much more confident in their daughter's odds, as they were allowing her to walk around in a public place dressed as such.

"Champions over here!" Professor McGonagall called out.

The two of them were put into lines towards the front of the room, with Viktor Krum and his date just in front of them. She caught a glimpse of Fleur, who was in her long silvery dress and on the arm of Davies. Most of the eyes in the room were on her in particular.

Dumbledore was smiling at all of them, and she had a feeling that it wasn't quite so genuine. Or perhaps, that was because Karkaroff, the Durmstrang Headmaster, was looking at all of them so foully. They were all to sit with the Judges, and when they arrived there, Percy Weasley ( _What in the world is he doing here_ , she thought) pulled out a chair next to him. The hand on her back, that was still burning her pleasantly through her thin robes, pushed her gently towards the offered seat, though she was certain it wasn't quite meant for her. Maisie really hadn't wanted to sit next to the former Head-Boy of Hogwarts. In her experience, he'd never been that friendly.

"I've been promoted." The Weasley spoke, in the kind of smug voice that she found distasteful, especially since he was leaning around her to look at Harry. "I'm now Mr. Crouch's personal assistant, and I'm here representing him." If the Weasley's had raised their children properly, Percival would know that to speak in such a way was disgustingly boastful and in no way polite conversation. Lucius Malfoy would strike his son if he heard him speak like that. Speaking of Draco...

"Mairead." Came her cousin's voice. He was without his date at the moment, and thankfully the room was still bustling, not everyone seated yet, so his approach was mostly unnoticed. "Weasley. Potter." Draco continued, giving a look to both Gryffindors. Maisie couldn't tell whether he had his wand on him or not, his finely tailored dress-robes successfully hiding and presenting his body as it was supposed to.

"Happy Yule, Draco." Maisie wished him, keeping her eyes on his chin rather than the rest of him, as it would only make her nervous and try even harder to figure out if he had his wand. This wasn't as sacred as Samhain, there was nothing preventing him from tormenting her here.

"You look beautiful this evening. Your father is well?" His pale, handsomely pointed face looked smug. Why? What was he doing?

"H-He is. And thank you." She tilted her head down demurely and tried to ignore the way Potter was glaring at Draco. He wasn't speaking, thankfully, but his anger was clear to everyone at the table.

"I do hope you'll save me a dance. Family comes first after all." He stressed, raising his eyebrows and looking at her purposely.

Oh. "I mean, yes of course I will." She said quickly, looking towards Potter, who looked confused. "Po-Harry?"

"You-you two are related?" He asked, dumbfounded.

Draco looked smug, and was about to open his mouth when Karkaroff began to chuckle deeply from across from them. His interruption didn't look unwanted however, as that seemed to be exactly what Malfoy wanted. Attention from powerful, influential people. But Maisie couldn't fault him, it was a smart move. Her addition to the table was the exact excuse that her cousin needed, under the guise of asking his relative for a dance. Completely allowed and respectable, all the while shooting for greatness from the Judges.

"Most purebloods are related. Even we're related to the Malfoy's by marriage." Percy told Potter, speaking of his family, though the Boy-Who-Lived was also related to the Malfoys as well, though more distantly than Maisie. Draco only just so held in his sneer at Weasley before brushing his hand on Maisie's shoulder in a show of false affection and leaving towards his own table. He was helping her. He must know about her father's wish to find her a suitor.

"May-sea?" Fleur inquired, gently, her foot reaching over and bumping against hers underneath the table. She had just sat down, and Madam Maxine was pulling out her large chair, sitting down elegantly as her gown of lavender-silk flowed around her massive body. Roger Davies was watching her, baffled and with a glaze over his eyes, as if only his body was sitting there and his mind was somewhere else entirely.

Maisie shrugged her narrow shoulders and tried to smile back at her. Fleur frowned back.

Dumbledore picked up the menu that was resting on top of the glittering, golden plates in front of him and said clearly 'Pork chops!' and so pork chops appeared on his plate. She followed suit, and picked up her crystal glass goblet and filled it with sparkling cider. The wine was being poured by Madam Maxine, the bottle looking very small in her large hands.

"Harry?" She murmured, gesturing to the bottle in her hands. He blinked and nodded, and so she poured the cider in his goblet.

"I didn't know you and Malfoy were close." He said to her. His voice sounded a bit strained.

Maisie put the bottle down before fixing the napkin on her lap. "We're not, really." She returned, pressing back against the back of her chair. "We're only second cousins. But my Mother and his Father were playmates growing up, so I was always invited over to parties and stuff at Malfoy Manor." Her Mother's photo books had tons of pictures taken at the Manor, with Lucius and her. The times that Maisie had seen her Mother's cousin, she'd thought he was a sort of cold looking man, nothing like he looked in the photographs as a boy, where he was smiling and had his platinum hair up in a ponytail.

"Oh."

The both of them were then distracted by the sound of Karkaroff's mean laughter. "Now, now, Viktor!" He was saying. "Don't go giving away anything else, now, or your charming friend will know exactly where to find us!" Granger in particular looked up and frowned at her date's Headmaster.

"Igor, all this secrecy... One would almost think you didn't want visitors." Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling in the icy light of the Great Hall.

"Well, Dumbledore." Karkaroff said, baring all of his teeth in a grin. "We are all protective of our private domains, are we not? Do we not jealously guard the halls of learning that have been entrusted to us? Are we not right to be proud that we alone know our school's secrets, and that we have the _absolute_ right to protect them?" His tone was almost edgy.

Maisie took a long drink of her cider.

"Oh I would never dream of assuming I know all of Hogwarts' secrets, Igor." Dumbledore said to him in a friendly tone that made a surge of distrust run through her. What was this guy thinking? "Only this morning, for instance, I took a wrong turn on the way to the loo and I found myself in a beautifully proportioned room I've never seen before, filled with a rather magnificent collection of chamberpots. When I went back to investigate more closely, I discovered that the room had vanished. But I must keep my eye out for it. Possibly, it is only accessible at five-thirty in the morning. Or it may only appear at the quarter moon―or when the seeker has an exceptionally full bladder."

Next to her, Potter snorted into the goulash on his plate.

Across from them, Fleur was coolly ignoring Roger Davies, though he looked happy as a clam to just continue staring at her. She was trying to perfectly commit how the girl across from her looked into her mind without asking for a photograph. She was doing a much better job at being discreet than her own dance partner. He wasn't her first choice in the slightest, but when a lady is out of options, she can't be too picky now can she? Perhaps she could get that photo after all though... She spied a boy with a camera around his next three tables away, showing the girl next to him who looked at least a year older than he was.

When all the food was finished, the people around the room were instructed to get up. The tables they were just at then suddenly were gone and a raised platform was conjured up, set upon it were instruments.

The Weird Sisters, a band that Maisie never really followed due to their sad and exuberant musical style, then came to the stage.

* * *

 **Yeah, the ball is cut in half. If it wasn't cut in half, it would be the one 7,000 word chapter in this story, so yeah. cutting it.**

 **don't forget to review/follow/favorite, you guys**


	12. Chapter 12

**ty Lady Ravanna, the-quiet-girl, Chocoholics Unite, Lizzy B, AvalonTheLadyKiller and PokemonTrainerDecember for reviewing the last chapter~**

 **Also RKamelot, who left a really long and awesome review! i don't know if you'll be happy about what voldemort has planned for maisie, but it's certainly not fun. and there will be more draco-maisie scenes later. A LOT of draco-maisie stuff.**

 **and you guys, terrible things await in the future and I am starting to put together the Graveyard Scene/Voldemort's return! EXCITING!**

* * *

 **December, 1994**

 **Hogwarts, Scotland**

 _ **The Black Beetle**_

* * *

All of the Champions and their partners were positioned on the dance floor in a perfect square.

It was when Harry put his hand on the curve of her back and she took his shoulder that she realized how incredibly close they were to each other. It was a waltz they were dancing, but still, she could feel the burning heat coming off of him, sinking through her thin dress. His hands were burning her so wonderfully that she was sure that her face was flushed. Professor Flitwick tapped his wand and the orchestra around them began to play. The Weird Sisters then started their slow, mournful tune and Harry began to lead her around the dance floor in the square that the four champions created.

She tried to keep her eyes over Potter's shoulder. They were roughly the same height and she could feel Potter's breath on her ear as she followed his every step. He wasn't properly trained on how to waltz, as he was just letting them travel around rather than actually using steps, but that was to be expected of a boy who was raised in the Muggle world.

Others joined them on the dance floor, and suddenly Maisie caught a glimpse of herself in one of the shiny ice sculptures around the room. She looked like a bride, only without the long veil of lace. And then, overcome with the emotion that one vision of herself she'd seen—what she called her life was about to be over, oh _gods_ —the sable-haired girl rested her head against Potter's shoulder, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment, seeing the light through her eyelids—a vermillion color. Potter's gentle hand on her back tightened slightly, holding her more closely to himself.

"Are you okay?" He murmured, surprised at the contact. Her rest on his shoulder only lasted a few seconds before she was once again looking away from him, behind him with her head up high.

"Fine. Just got a wee bit winded, I'm afraid." She lied, giving her dance-partner a withering smile before their attention was taken by Neville Longbottom ( _He wouldn't be a terrible husband_ , Maisie thought suddenly) and Ginny Weasley, who were dancing nearby. Ginny clearly had no clue how to follow her partner's steps, because he kept trotting on her feet when she was meant to take a step back. She should have learned how to dance properly, so, like Potter and herself, she'd flow properly around the room. They passed by Madam Maxine and Professor Dumbledore waltzing gracefully, Professor Moody and Sinatra doing a terrible two-step (he gave her a wink with his real eye) and Ludo Bagman in his yellow robes attempting a smooth cha-cha without the proper music with Professor Vector, who was dressed in a lovely, shimmery black and gold gown rather her usual robes.

The song that The Weird Sisters were playing slowly ended.

"Maybe you just need to sit down then?" Potter asked her, in a warm and comforting tone that burned her as much as his touches did. Her magic rumbled and buzzed inside of her, tingling against her back and her fingertips—the areas his hands were touching her.

"Thank you." She returned, and he lead her off of the dance floor by his arm just as a faster song began to play.

Maisie spied Weasley sitting down at one of the round tables, his terrible scarlet coat off and in a bundle at his feet while Parvati sat next him, looking longingly at the dance floor, but still remaining next to her partner loyally.

"Hey." She greeted her and Potter, her voice curiously clear of any sort of discomfort. She wasn't entirely sure about the Patil family, as they weren't actually from Europe, but the Patil twins were definitely raised with pureblood ideals. For some reason, that made her like her roommate better. Because they had more in common perhaps? It couldn't be because she was raised a pureblood, Maisie had never cared about things like that before...

"Hullo." She said back, walking forward and sitting down next to her, her gown glittering around her. Parvati didn't look that far off from being a bride either, her sari only needed to change to scarlet red. Arranged marriages were even more common in India, and they didn't necessarily insist on waiting until they were of age either.

Potter and Weasley both stood, with Weasley in particular looking foul and angry, glaring off at the dance floor at Viktor Krum and his muggleborn date. Jealousy? Potter touched her shoulder briefly before leaving with his friend towards the ice-fountain that had champagne flowing from it.

"Where did you go?" Parvati asked her once the two boys were gone, turning to her and leaning her elbow against the round table behind them, her deep brown eyes now flickering occasionally to where her sister Padma was dancing with her date next to Fred Weasley and Angelina Johnson, who were dancing in a far more wide-spread and excitable way.

"Go?" Maisie asked, wringing her hands together nervously on her lap, twisting and turning the diamond rings on her middle fingers. It wrinkled the thin fabric that attached to them, up to her arms and to her shoulders. Realizing what she was doing, she stopped and straightened the rings.

"This afternoon, when Lavender and I were getting ready." Parvati clarified, her long black hair flowing over her shoulder. "You packed up your things and left." The song that was playing died away, and another slow song, this one happier than the first one, began to play.

Maisie nodded and stretched her arms out, palms over her knees. "Yeah, yes, I did. Well, Fleur asked me to come down and get ready with her." She told her roommate, whose black eyebrows rose up in surprise.

"Fleur did? Delacour?"

"Mmhmm."

"Are you two...?"

"What?" She asked. Parvati shook her head and waved her hand. It was covered in delicate black henna designs.

"Nothing. Forget I said anything."

Potter and Weasley returned with drinks in each hand. Weasley's disgruntled expression hadn't changed and was as unpleasant to look at as ever. Poor Parvati, she took the offered drink from him gracefully, the bangles on her arms jingling with the movement, but still had little attention from her dance partner. A hawkish student from Beauxbatons was watching her from one of the other tables, and observing the two boys in front of them. Sizing them up as a possible rival. He'd of course find no resistance from _Weasley._

"Thank you." Maisie said to Potter, taking the flute.

It only took a few minutes for the boy from Beauxbatons to come over and invite Parvati to dance. Weasley didn't even give a vocal response, only nodded his head and let the two go. The indian girl didn't even glare at the red-haired boy, perhaps either from her own restraint, or from her thankfulness that this boy wanted her even when this stupidly dressed one didn't.

It was soon afterwards that Granger came and took Parvati's vacant seat next to Maisie, fanning her pink face with her pale hand. The girl dressed in glittering white scooted away from her.

"Hey Hermione." Potter greeted her kindly.

"It's hot, isn't it? Viktor has gone to get some drinks."

"Viktor?" Weasley said foully. Maisie winced at the horrible sound of that retched boy's voice and stood up from her seat before she could hear it anymore, her skin tingling unpleasantly underneath her dress. She apologized to Potter and said that she was going to go to the loo. He likely knew that it was a lie since she sounded so uncomfortable, even to her own ears, but surely he didn't feel _that_ bad for it as both of his friends were quarreling like a jealous married couple right next to him. Potter grinned at her in an apologetic sort of way that was sort of dashing before he allowed her to escape.

When Maisie ducked away out of the Hall, Harry gave a swift punch to Ron's arm. He gave a shout of pain and a loud 'Oi! You fucker!'

/~/

The girl's bathroom looked like it had been attacked by a beauty parlor, because there were all these girls there, hovering over the mirror and touching up their lipstick. It looked so terrible to be apart of, that Maisie took a step right back out and turned on her heels to return to the Great Hall, her floaty dress flying around her legs and brushing against the stone floor of the hall.

Was it too much to hope that Fleur had stopped dancing with Davies long enough for her to talk?

The young witch gave a second-long glance towards where she had left Potter before she slide around the dance floor and outside towards the gardens, where the carriages had brought the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students were parked. There was snow on the ground and it crunched beneath her shoes, causing a sharp chill to travel up her legs. Maisie grasped at her arms, strolling past the bushes of Christmas roses and the large carriages as she began the count the seconds. How long would it take for Weasley and Granger to stop fighting? A few minutes? Hours? Or better yet; How long would it take for them to brutally murder each other?

Maisie smiled at the unusually mean thought, amused by it as she wandered through the greenery.

A muffled moan caught her attention. It made her jump and look startled at the carriage next to her. _I shouldn't be here_ , she thought dumbly.

"Martin-Moors!" The cruel bark of Professor Snape shocked her, and she let out a yelp of surprise, her long arms out in front of her as she whipped around and saw her Potions Professor standing there, his black robes in the scenery of pure white around them making him look like a blot of ink on a fresh piece of parchment. He raised a black eyebrow at her and his sneer dropped from his face, replaced with a plain line of disappointment. He must have been on the lookout for canoodling students.

"What are you doing out here?" He asked her sternly, reminding her of McGonagall now as he looked down his hooked nose at her.

"I-I'm, I was just walking sir!" Maisie stuttered, a small bead of sweat rolling down the back of her neck at the sight of her frightening Professor, whom of which looked like today was the same day that death had befallen his entire family. His obsidian black eyes seemed to say to her, 'Sure, and I'm the bloody Queen of France.' Nevertheless, after a few seconds of withering underneath his scrutiny, he jerked his chin sharply towards the entrance to the Great Hall, dismissing her, and Maisie didn't stick around to argue with him.

The bottom of her dress was wet and bumping against her ankles as she scurried inside, past a few couples that looked like they had Professor Snape pass by them, as they were all looking upset and looking around cautiously for more teachers.

"Princess." Draco greeted her rudely from where he was standing with his handsome friend Zabini and his date— _oh Merlin and Morgana_ —Pansy Parkinson. Zabini's date, a frightfully pretty dark haired girl who was dressed in a long blue gown and whose face was unfamiliar to her, looked her up and down curiously.

"Hello cousin." She greeted him cautiously, hoping that the familial title would perhaps keep them from taking out their wands and pointing them at her. Maisie saw Parkinson's hand twitch in particular and it sent a shot of dread through her. She shifted nervously on her feet, her eyes darting to each of their faces.

"I can't believe you're on a _date_ with Precious Potter." Draco said cruelly, spitting out the name like it was a poisoned cup of tea. It made her wince.

"It's not a date." Maisie defended weakly, brushing a beetle off her sleeve. "He just asked me because he couldn't find a dance partner."

Draco rolled his eyes and Zabini chuckled deeply. Parkinson said nothing. It wasn't her place, but still, she was surprised that she hadn't grasped at this opportunity to mock her. Pansy and her group of girls adored to roam the halls looking for weaker women to bully and fight with, not unlike Draco himself. Never allowing a Professor to discover them, of course.

"Of course he did." He sneered at her. "And Longbottom looks absolutely _smashing_ in his dress robes this evening."

Maisie sighed tiredly and shook her head, a few strands of her stylish up-do coming undone around her face, brushing along the sharp edge of her jaw. She brushed the curled locks behind her ear. "Goodnight Draco." She said to him sadly.

The blonde boy stared after her, half-tempted to follow after the Gryffindor (Was she in Gryffindor? He wasn't completely sure.) girl and continue his assault on her poor choice of dance partner for the Ball, but Pansy murmured in his ear lowly that she wanted to _lay down_ , and that was definitely something he wanted to be apart of, far more than bothering his silly second cousin. So Draco followed Pansy off into the gardens, enticed by the cleavage showed through her dress and the half-lidded look of want in her eyes.

Hiding away in the corner of the Great Hall, she spotted Fleur on the dance floor with Davies. He looked dazed and there were a few marks on his neck that hadn't been there when she saw him earlier.

Had someone tried to strangle him? Probably, his date was part-Veela, others were probably jealous and tried to fight him for her. Maisie stuck out her tongue childishly before she sat at one of the empty chairs where she had been sitting during dinner. No one was sitting there now, and it was better than going off to look for Potter. She didn't see him anyway, maybe he went looking for her after she had been gone for so long. And this Ball was going on _forever._

Maisie wanted to crawl away upstairs to her dorm, peel off this dress and drink no less than four cups of tea. From this experience, she never wanted to go to another Ball again, they were so damn tiring.

She peaked her eyes open and spotted Professor Moody swaying with Professor McGonagall, his wooden leg creaking like the Durmstrang boat out on the Black Lake. Maisie grinned and started giggling at the sight of the tall, stern-faced Deputy Headmistress in her tartan robes and tall hat with a shorter, stockier Moody who wore a kilt and a white stocking over his one hairy, fleshy leg. Students around them that were also dancing were trying to cover up their laughter by burying their faces in their partner's shoulders. Maisie saw Professor McGonagall wince when Moody's wooden leg tapped against her foot.

Maisie folded her arms on the table and rested her head on top of them, letting her eyelids fall shut. She listened to the sound of the Ball, and just sort of rested there for a few minutes as she wished the Ball would end soon. The Weird Sister's music droned on and the orchestra continued to play gently in the background of the Great Hall.

After she had counted another eight minutes, a hand touched her back. A hand that was so warm that it sank through to her skin and heated her pleasurably.

"Maisie? Are you sleeping?" Potter asked her, his voice low and vibrating against her from his touch on her shoulder blade. She wanted his hand to slide down the rest of her back, there was such a chill in the Great Hall now that it was so late in the night and his burning heat would feel so nice.

"Not yet." She answered him in a soft, sleepy voice.

Potter laughed at her response and his hot hands grazed against the curve of her waist. It was maybe a bit inappropriate, but she enjoyed the feeling too much to request he cease.

"Are you ready to leave?" He rumbled curiously.

The sable-haired girl only nodded in response before lifting her head up from her arms. Potter's eyes looked like Roger Davies' for a minute when she took his arm and attempted to sober herself up from her exhaustion. Like he was dizzy. But... Maybe he was as tired as she was. Sure, Potter was a boy who was about to be a man, but he wouldn't want to do the same things that Davies' wanted to do to Fleur to _her_ , right? He'd told her that it wouldn't be a date, he promised.

Maisie flushed and tried to straighten herself up and walk properly. What if Potter did try to—? Would she let him? Did she want him to try to? If he did try, did that mean that she had succeeded? She'd have prepared herself enough that the Boy-Who-Lived wanted her, which meant others would too, right? Her father would be able to sleep at night, with the knowledge that when he was gone, she would be taken care of. And Maisie... Would be happy that her father was happy.

Potter led her up the Grand Staircase, passing by Granger, who was giving Krum a kiss goodnight on the corner of his mouth. The sight was embarrassing for both of them, and they hurried away from the scene.

"Lucky bloke." Maisie said a bit teasingly towards the taller boy, who immediately snorted and covered the smile on his face with his free hand.

"I might have to wash my eyes out with whatever's in Snape's medicine cabinet." Potter said back, his voice strained though it was just as teasing as Maisie's was. The two of them slipped underneath the tapestry and up to the Fat Lady's portrait, where she was snoozing with her friend Violet. The two had clearly been partaking in glasses of painted sherry, because it took Harry shouting the password for her to actually open the door. What they found inside was a nearly empty Common Room.

Nearly empty.

On the couch by the fire was Ronald Weasley. And on top of Ronald Weasley, was a brutish looking girl with black curly hair and smeared dark purple lipstick. They were snogging in a terrible, sloppy way and Weasley was grasping roughly at the girls thick thighs, traveling up her black dress to a destination that Maisie definitely didn't want to see.

"Ron!" Potter gasped, looking horrified at the sight of his best mate getting to third base on the couch of the Common Room. The two separated quickly after that, and Maisie covered her mouth to keep from letting out a disgusted noise at the state of... Undress, Weasley was in.

"Oh gods." He croaked, the boy's entire head turning pink.

"G-goodnight Harry." Maisie choked, her eyes firmly up on the ceiling of the Common Room as she hurried up the girl's staircase without another glance behind her where Weasley was trying to cover up his penis from his best friend's eyes.

* * *

 **Not as fond of this chapter, to be honest.**

 **too many things happening at once, yknow, it always seems rushed to me**

 **:P**

 **Don't forget to Review &Follow!**


	13. Chapter 13

**ty Lady Ravanna, the-quiet-girl and AvalonTheLadyKiller, Lizzy B, AubriannaRose and a new reader (xXRemus John LupinXx) for reviewing the last chapter!  
**

 **Soon the second tasssssskkkk and theres some voldie stuff, though a lot of it is really subtle.**

 **volde is pretty subtle mostly throughout, so unfortunately, he wont just up and appear BEFORE he completely comes back. when he comes back, he'll be hovering over her like a little despicable angel on her shoulder and you'll all hate everything about him because voldemort is a prick**

* * *

 **January, 1995**

 **Hogwarts, Scotland**

 ** _Marksmanship_**

* * *

Fleur laughed, her eyes filled with mirth and humor as her body was actually racked with her laughter. It was New Years Day, and it seems that Fleur had been given the best gift ever. Maisie had been keeping the tale to herself until the end of December, keeping the knowledge she had over the french witch's head like it were a treat for an owl. Now, at midnight, in the Beauxbatons carriage, in the room on the left hand side, the story was out.

"Vou 'ust... Vou 'ust _draw_ me a picture." She insisted, reaching out and taking Maisie's hand, her face pink from the wine the two of them had been partaking in.

"Nonono. I'm not doing that, j-just trust me you don't want to see what I s _aw_." The sable-haired witch insisted, squeezing Fleur's hand and shaking it up and down in her grip.

"I do though!" Fleur exclaimed, setting down her glass of wine before stumbling up, flipping through a bag before she pulled out a piece of parchment and a blue quill. She shuffled the items in front of Maisie before she realized there wasn't any ink for her to use. The french witch snorted and plucked a crystal inkwell out from her drawer and dropped it on her bed for her.

"Go on!" She said, slapping her hands on her hips, gesturing wildly to the items, which only served to make Maisie giggle and toss her forearm over her eyes as she leaned back on Fleur's bed, her hair looking as if it were windblown when it splayed out on top of the feather-filled comforter. When that didn't work, Fleur jumped onto the bed knees first, making the writing utensils bounce off the mattress and onto the floor of the carriage. Somehow, this action was so hilarious to their wine-muddled minds that the two young witches just lost themselves, with Fleur splayed out across her pillows as she was overtaken by drunken giggles and Maisie slumped over her knees, burying her face there to cover up a loud 'SNORT!' that had escaped from her nose.

"Aaaah!" Fleur whined, pointing a delicate finger at her, a massive grin across her face, acting as if she were going to tell a Professor or perhaps her Father that she had made a funny noise.

"Shuahhshhhhhh." Maisie insisted, covering her mouth with two fingers at Fleur.

The blonde witch rolled down from the pillows until she was side-to-side with Maisie, blue eyes gazing over her body when the younger was raising her long, almost endless legs up in the air. They, for once, were bare of stockings and socks. The socks that she had worn here were hanging over the shower in Fleur's bathroom, as the warming charm that Maisie had placed on her clothing wouldn't keep them dry.

"Have you figured out that egg yet?" The sable-haired witch inquired, her eyes flickering this way and that, trying to avoid the blonde's eyes. She hoped that she didn't think she was trying to help Potter—or Diggory, for that matter. Luckily, Fleur just shrugged her shoulders and moved her legs underneath herself, so she was sitting criss-cross. That careless air about the Triwizard Champion frightened Maisie for a split second. People got hurt in this Tournament, and Fleur was just shrugging her shoulders like she didn't care about the Second Task at all?

The blonde looked at the large, golden egg that sat upon her desk, on top of what used to be someone's cat-bed. It's shiny exterior was laughing at her as it contorted her reflection. Truthfully, Fleur had no clue what the clue said. She'd been preoccupied with other things, like how her family were planning on hopefully catching the next task come February and the fact that Roger Davies, that boy she'd taken with her to the Ball, was still staring at her longingly from across rooms.

Concerned mossy green eyes gazed up at her, glassy from the wine and the lighting. They were beautiful and overwhelmed Fleur Delacour, like how that young muggle boy had overwhelmed her.

"Maybe I can help you." Maisie pitched, in a light voice. She lurched her body forward and picked up the egg from it's bed, brushing off a few patches of cat hair that clung to it. She felt around the sides of it, as if expecting to find some kind of engraving of runes, or something along those lines, to be on it. But it was nothing but smooth and shiny gold.

Fleur allowed the other girl to do so, if just because it was too late to stop her from twisting the top and letting the three sections of the egg to come apart. It let out an ungodly screeching, which even made the painting on her wall wince and cover his ears with a scowl. In Maisie's shock at the sound, she dropped the golden egg, with it landing on her foot which made her yelp and wince in pain. A loud 'THUMP' accompanied the fall that she then took. The golden egg, which had been screeching terribly, grew silent when it rolled onto it's side and then underneath Fleur's bed.

"Bloody fuck!" Maisie groaned, which immediately made her want to cringe into herself, already picturing her Grandmother telling her to 'Put your hands out—flat now, you confounding chit—and don't you dare move them an inch before I've finished!'

But her pathetic swear only made Fleur smirk in a very unimpressed fashion before she leaned over the side of the bed and scooped up the fallen egg.

"I 'ave begun my research, ze only zing zat I am worried about is ze dialect." The French witch told her, smoothing back her silvery-blonde hair, from where it had started to muse up from their silliness.

Maisie's face betrayed her confusion. She must not have known sea-creatures as well as the ridiculous monsters they watched over in her Care of Magical Creatures class. "Dialect? Of what, _wendigos?_ "

Fleur rolled her blue eyes, hearing her jest. "You'll find out zen during ze Second Task, oui?"

Maisie tossed a crumbled up Christmas wrapper at her.

/~/

Fleur, for whatever reason, seemed to detest most of Hogwarts Castle.

She often spoke adoringly of Beauxbatons, of the nymphs that entertained them at Yule Feasts, of the warmth and open blue skies above them in France. She also mentioned to her briefly, of her younger sister Gabrielle. The blonde had been very short on the details about her, for whatever reason. Maisie could understand that some subjects were sensitive. To think of it, she also never spoke about her parents, or the house she grew up in. And considering all of the things that the two of them talked about, it was amazing that they hadn't even _touched_ upon Fleur's home life (Maisie's had been spoken of barely, just a mention here and there of Venus and her Father.)

The two of them were strolling in their warmest cloaks through the halls towards the Great Hall for lunch, and the unpleasant—and dare she say it, almost _ugly_ —sneer on her face appeared as they went by a large portrait that seemed to be Sir Cadagon's original as it held a medieval background with several ladies there giggling as the Knight himself came bumbling through it to the portraits next to it.

"What's he done to you?" Maisie asked her, a tad bit harsh in tone.

Fleur sniffed and shook her head, realizing that her condescension and judgmental attitude was ticking off her fancy (she truly couldn't help that the place was so... Not foul, that was too harsh... Brutish? Perhaps.) and attempted a more cheerful air. Unfortunately, she wasn't nearly as talented as Maisie was when pretending to feel something that you didn't, so she saw right through it.

The Great Hall wasn't even safe from Fleur's harsh, French opinions.

They sat at the Ravenclaw table, like they frequently have been throughout the past couple of months, and Fleur poured herself a ladle full of some sort of broth that smelt like all sorts of herbs (a.k.a., like the Greenhouses or even just Professor Sprout's office) and some kind of shellfish. Some of the boys who sat far away from them, gazed at Fleur's smooth and graceful movements in a bit of awe.

 _I can't believe she's so dick-ish,_ Maisie thought, though she was just as amused as she was insulted on the behalf of her school. The blonde didn't seem to notice the brunette's disapproval (or at least, she was trying to ignore it) and her stubbornness alone was sort of funny to her. Maisie poured herself a cup of tea and set it down on it's saucer to allow it to cool as she placed a tangerine and some spinach pie on her plate.

Fleur seemed to straighten up next to her, stiff and uncomfortable. It was easy to see the cause. Roger Davies, her date to the Yule Ball, had sat down across from them, right next to Marguerite and the Seeker for Ravenclaw's Quidditch team, Cho Chang.

"G-good afternoon." He greeted them, though his eyes never left the prettiest of them; Fleur.

"Roger." She cooly addressed him, like she were a speaking to a lowly jester. Maisie found that picturing bright and poofy clothing that was adorned with bells on Davies wasn't difficult at all. She smiled behind her tea cup, a small steam-rabbit that she had made came cheerfully bounding around her head. _Perhaps he'd look even more dashing if he did a few back-flips for our amusement._ In her head, Davies broke his back mid-flip, but continued to crawl around backwards like a terrifying crab, his face frozen in horror.

Davies looked thrilled just to be acknowledged, and he pushed back his dark hair with a trembling hand. "Hey. Hi." He continued, in a funny boy way that made the rest of the girls smirk and snicker in amusement. Maisie did not join them, but only continued to think of Davies as a horrifying broken-backed crab that would scutter around on the cobblestone floor as she took a long drink from her tea.

There was a moment of silence from the tall boy, whose gaze finally seemed to darken back to normal when the initial shock from being around Fleur wore off.

Maisie cut into her slice of savory pie, the crunch of the crust in her mouth pleasant.

"Fleur?" Davies then spoke up, a lot more confident now.

"Yes?" Fleur answered dully, not even giving any false interest in what this boy had to say.

"Would you like to go for a walk today?" That seemed to be the wrong thing to ask, because she immediately scoffed and said, "In _zis_ weathzer?" Davies blushed in embarrassment, and reached up, grasping the back of his neck. Cho Chang and Marguerite exchanged a brief glance with Maisie, who could only shrug her shoulders in a way that said, 'I fucking know, right?'

"I-I meant around the Castle. Maybe?" His uncertainty was back.

 _Maybe_ , Marguerite mouthed.

"'Erhaps anozer time." Fleur replied, taking a long drink from her golden goblet. Davies got even more embarrassed just then, his blush going blotchy and unattractive.

"Right, okay... Sure. Bye."

Laughter accompanied Davies' stumbling away from them. Maisie refilled her tea cup, and swirled her finger, creating a hummingbird that darted this way and that, slow compared to the actual creature.

For the rest of the day, and at breakfast the next day, Roger Davies could be seen looking extremely glum and sitting alone around the castle, with not even his mates around him. Maisie couldn't feel all that terrible about the situation though. Not only was it none of her business, but she really didn't like Davies all that much. She didn't know what it was about him, but his handsome features and white smile all pointed at Fleur sort of bothered her. The sable-haired witch knew that he had no genuine feelings for her, but it wasn't quite just a protective feeling that she had for the elder girl. It was an odd sort of feeling that seemed to excuse her reason for suddenly taking out her wand made of willow and hexing Davies' legs together in the hallway when she was all alone.

It was actually very fun to watch him fall over— _on his back, maybe he'll break it_ —into another boy, falling into a heap on the floor.

No one even glanced at her, there was no way she would be blamed.

But then, when she continued on her way, feeling proud of her actions, someone stopped her in her tracks.

"I saw that." Moody grunted, his big arms leaning heavily on a giant wooden cane as his false eye swiveled over her. Once again, Maisie fought the urge to cross her arms over her chest.

"I don't know what you're talking about." She lied easier these days.

"I'm not giving you detention for it." He shrugged, looking for the world that he didn't care that she had hexed a boy in the halls for no reason _. You look hungry,_ Maisie thought suddenly, observing Moody. Indeed, his movements and expression conveyed intense curiosity, but the way he shifted... It made her uncomfortable.

"I'd think you'd know a better hex than a leg-locking jinx though, Martin-Moors." He rumbled then, leaning back on his wooden leg.

Maisie blinked and she grasped hold of the ends of her skirt, her long legs twitching. Her mind was telling her 'Run! Run you stupid girl!' but there was no pain, no pressure in the back of her head that she learned began to accompany her when she felt unsafe. You-Know-Who must be a prat then, she figured. if he really was in her head (unlikely, everyone knew he was out for Potter, what the bloody hell would he want with _her_ ), he was missing out on an opportunity to send a migraine to her. Numbly, she released the now damp part of her skirt (her hands were sweating) and took a half-step back.

"Sir?" She asked.

"Come with me, lass." _Mairead, here now girl. Closer..._

 _/~/_

Professor Moody took her to his office, which looked the same as it did the last time she was in it.

He had the same macarons and the cracked teacups. She took a rose flavored one, though she wasn't quite sure what roses truly tasted like. It might have been completely off-center, but Maisie thought tasted rather nice and she munched on it while Moody moved around to fetch the large purple teapot on the shelf.

"What do you know about jinxes?" He asked her, making the teapot float down onto his desk where the macarons sat. He seemed to be listening intently for her answer.

This startled her, and she sat down on the stool, her body tight. "N-not much, sir. Just a few things I've seen around school."

"You haven't got any proper dueling experience?"

Embarrassingly, she thought about her second year, when she fawned over Gildroy Lockhart even when Professor Snape beat him so terribly when they dueled. She hadn't been able to find a partner, and he'd had to come and assist her. Even with Lockhart, she couldn't land a single spell. Her father never taught her any dueling spells, only protective charms. So...

"No, none at all." Maisie admitted to him.

Moody sneered at her, in a way that was so Slytherin-like that it startled her. Then, he stood up and took out his wand, a stumpy, lumpy sort of wand that looked more like a twig.

"Disarm me!" He barked at her. She almost fell out of the stool. He took a bounding step forward and she actually did slip out of it, onto the floor, the skirt of her dress riding up over her underwear in the back. Maisie had little choice but to grab hold of the stool while she haphazardly checked herself over with her hand. She grasped hold of the handle of her wand and took it out—her hand was trembling, her wand looked like it was experiencing an earthquake—and made to flick her wand at him, but with a wave of Moody's hand sent it flying against the wall and down onto the floor.

"Har! You look like a frightened rabbit, barely even able to hold your wand arm up properly." Moody's critique hurt, even if it was true.

She flinched when he approached and grabbed hold of her forearm, straightening it with his roughly textured hand, consequently forcing her to point her wand where his heart laid underneath his heavy coat and robes. He took a few steps back when she fit up to his standards and pointed his wand at her again.

"Disarm. Me." He demanded.

Maisie swooshed her wand, stuttering out the spell. It did nothing. In fact, all that did happen was a faint breeze came out of the end of her wand. Moody raised a patchy, chunky eyebrow at her, looking strange.

"Nice, if I wanted to cool down a nice apple pie, Martin-Moors. Again. _Now_."

* * *

 **Geez, sorry for all these short chapters you guys.**

 **it's the end of the quarter for me, and then ill have about 3 months of just online classes, so hopefully ill be able to write more often then**

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	14. Chapter 14

**ty Lady Ravanna, xXRemus John LupinXx, kkdall123, AvalonTheLadyKiller,** **maighdean mhara, one Guest and Ermata Coos for reviewing the last chapter!  
**

 **The second task will be the next chapter, i hope you're all very excited about it, cause i am!**

 **love some mermaids VuV  
**

 **And introducing... Draco Malfoy perspective! You saw it briefly at the Yule Ball, and boy geez is he fun to write! Also there is some much-needed information (hints, or whatever) on the Maisie-Malfoy Family that is happening. Lucius Malfoy, and the Malfoys in general, I've never seen as true villains, cause they're kind of cowardly, but they are completely themselves-oriented. And Lucius, as I kind of hinted at before, was quite close to Mabel, Maisie's Mom.**

* * *

 **January, 1995**

 **Hogwarts, Scotland**

 ** _Her Cousin the Dragon  
_**

* * *

 _Ginger, really, must you be so string-y_ , Maisie thought. She was removing the skin from a large piece of ginger with her knife and she kept cutting in too deep and having to cut off chunks of the yellow root. Her partner, Millicent Bulstrode, was ignoring her as she stirred their cauldron first clockwise and then counter clockwise before adding the measured out hellebore syrup. It smelled like something that was far too sweet, like a deep and terrible pit of what she was sure Honeydukes' licorice wands were like when in a liquid form.

"You have twenty more minutes." Professor Snape announced to them in a low, humorless tone as he passed through the rows of stations. He leered at Neville Longbottom as his pieces of ginger were being cut in a very rough fashion. He was having trouble with the roots as well.

Maisie shut out the sound of Snape harshly criticizing Longbottom's work (possibly making the boy make even more mistakes as he was at it) and instead focused on cutting up her own. They at least were the same small, square size like the book described. They were placed on the scale (8 grams) and Bulstrode took them and put them in the cauldron, letting them steep in this heat for a few seconds before she lowered the fire. It would stay this way for another five minutes before being stirred three times clockwise and then once counterclockwise.

She began to scribble down the results on their shared piece of parchment, describing the color of the murky and yet shiny green that it was turning. It was supposed to have a slight blue sheen on the top when it was complete. Hopefully it'd be at least turquoise by the end. Not that Snape would give one of his Slytherins a bad grade. This was a partner assignment after all.

It was teal.

Still, she bottled the potion, labeled it, and turned it in with the parchment on Snape's desk.

The bell rang, and the class left with once last look from their darkly robed Professor (he was looking in particular at Longbottom and Potter's potion, which was a sickly yellow.) By lunch, Maisie had forgotten about the ginger-smell on her fingers as it was replaced by the subtle sweetness that accompanied two cups of chamomile tea with only one sugar cube between them.

Out of season on her plate was a stuffed green bell pepper, but that didn't stop her from eating it. Fleur wasn't anywhere to be found throughout the Great Hall, so Maisie assumed that the taller girl (though not by much anymore, drat) was finding out what 'dialect' of language the creature inside of the egg was. Glad to know that her friend would likely be prepared for the next Task, which was only a short time away, the sable-haired witch that sat alone at the Gryffindor table helped herself to one more cup of tea.

She was sipping from her teacup quietly when she saw how many people carried newspapers with them. _How peculiar_ , Maisie thought, only just so glancing at the papers that some of the other Gryffindors were reading. Fudge must have done something outrageous lately and Rita Skeeter wrote something equally outrageous to accompany it. Really, she was quite the ghastly woman. While she herself had never had the horrendous opportunity to meet her, it was quite obvious how the witch operated around the Wizarding World.

Maisie reached underneath her skirt to adjust at the garter belts she wore. Focused on pulling the black strap over her thigh, she didn't notice someone slide onto the bench directly in front of her. A very blonde someone.

/~/

Draco had been avoiding Pansy for some time that day.

She thought herself his girlfriend. Blaise wasn't letting him forget about it either. Every time Pansy strolled into the Common Room, her hair sleek and black rimmed around her eyes, his mate would turn around and give him a raised eyebrow 'look-Drakey-your-leech-is-back-from-the-Black-Lake-to-suck-your-cock' expression, which only served to make him turn a furious pink and snap out a harsh 'Shut the fucking hell up you prick!' The dark boy would smile handsomely and then turn back to whatever pretty bird he had been flirting with before Pansy had arrived.

He came from Potions and ate lunch with Crabbe and Goyle, not wanting to see the look in Blaise's eyes when Pansy inevitably came to cling to his arm. She didn't like Crabbe or Goyle, she thought they were dumb logs (not that she was all that better, the only reason she was passing two of her classes was because Snape bullied the Professors into it.) So at least he'd be left to be himself without that witch acting the part of his groupie.

Draco was invested in the pork belly sandwiches that he'd taken. He knew not to take too much, it wouldn't do well for him to be weary tonight at dinner. He did _not_ want to end up in bed with Pansy. That risk was not something he'd want to take, not to mention what Mother would do if she ever found out about it.

He restrained his shiver, instead taking a long drink from his goblet, letting his eyes travel around the room. If he was lucky, maybe Longbottom would come bumbling by. Or even better; Perfect Potter.

He still couldn't believe one of his relatives―granted, a second cousin, and what was her name again?―would agree to be on Potter's arm during a very important Ball. It almost shouted that she was on the side of Light, restricting the families she could marry into. It was enough to make a man sneer in disgust. If his cousin had the need, he would have taken her himself to the Ball. Even a second cousin like her, he'd be required to escort her should she ask. (Draco had to admit though, he would have laughed right in her face if she did.)

Princely Potter was a smart alternative though, certainly. He was famous― _eugh_ ―in the spotlight, a Triwizard Champion.

Smart, that girl-cousin of his. Though it did make him want to be sick.

Mairead, that was her name! He suddenly remembered, spotting the tall girl who sat alone at the Gryffindor table. Strange, these days she sat with that French bunch of girls and _Fleur Delacour_ , the Beauxbatons Champion over at the Ravenclaw table. But today, she was all alone, drinking a cup of tea at least 5 feet away from any of the other Gryffindors. _Fair game for a hexing_ , Draco thought lazily, taking out his unicorn-hair wand and twirling it in his fingers. It'd entertain him for a little while, at least until he'd have to return to classes. Which hex should he give her though? She was a girl, so it wasn't like he could do to her what he'd do to Longbottom. _Those delicate witches,_ he thought, annoyed.

"Yes of course Pansy. He's that way, with Vince and Greg." The sound of Blaise's voice caught his attention. He was... That son-of-a-bitch! And she didn't even look deterred by Crabbe or Goyle! Fucking asshole, he almost growled.

Without thinking another second of it he got up from his spot and strode away from the Slytherin Table. He didn't rush, nor did he hurry, but his second step did skip a bit. A mistake on his part that his mother would no doubt comment on should she see it.

Finding himself nearing his girl-second-cousin, Draco found himself remembering the stressed information his Father had sent him in his monthly letter. _Do make sure that your cousin is well, Draco. Her father has begun to advertise her as ready to marry Draco, and it is quite crucial for you to assist in this endeavor. We do for family, Draco._

Since when did they consider anyone without the last name 'Malfoy' family? They were related to most of the Wizarding World, and they never assisted _their_ Patriarchs in finding grooms for their daughters before. Or perhaps this was his Father's way of telling him that they wanted **him** to marry her? She was a second-cousin, which meant their union would be completely allowed. But then again... Draco looked at his girl-cousin with what he was sure to be a distasteful expression at her stature and general frailty. She looked like she might break if someone grasped her firmly enough. Sure, she was pretty in a girlish sort of way, but she wasn't exactly someone that he'd be attracted to. Not that it truly mattered, but he was the Heir to his family! He'd have more options than just her!

 _It is quite crucial for you to assist in this endeavor._

 _We do for family, Draco._

 _"Come along my dearest one, your Father's cousin and her family have come to visit us." Mother spoke to him during a time where he still had to look up to see her face._

So reluctantly he approached her, swinging his long legs over the bench, sitting down directly in front of his delicate cousin at the Gryffindor table.

/~/

Maisie glanced up and almost pissed herself.

Malfoy was sitting **_there_** , right in front of her! Like he had all the right in the world to just sit at not only the Gryffindor table, but with _her._ In those few moments of silence, which consisted completely of the two of them staring at each other, a few things occurred. One, the tea cup that she had been holding cracked and broken into pieces, making scalding hot tea go all over her hand and her plate. Two, the others sitting at the table turned their heads, and began to gape at the sight of Draco Malfoy who, overall was a general dick head, was now sitting at the Gryffindor table with whats-her-name!

"Ah!" She hissed, darting her hand away from the splash of the tea and hurriedly grasped at the napkin on her lap, wrapping it around her now scalded hand and wrist.

"Nice going, did you wait all day just for me to arrive for you to do that?" Malfoy asked snidely, with a mean glint in his grey eyes.

Maisie flushed and grit her teeth, squeezing the cloth around her burning hand. She wanted to snap at him for that, and was almost prepared to say anything to him for that when the rest of the Gryffindors at her table did it for her. Well, not for her. For themselves, they didn't even acknowledge that she was there at all. Not even a glance.

"What the bloody hell are you doing here Malfoy?" Dean Thomas, a tall half-blood from her year demanded of Malfoy, standing up from where he had been having lunch with Seamus Finnegan.

"Having lunch. What does it matter to you, Thomas?" Malfoy returned coolly, raising a white-blonde eyebrow at the other boy.

Finnegan joined Thomas then, the heavily accented voice of the Irishman joining his friend in the outrage they shared over Malfoy's addition to their table.

"It matters because you ain't welcome at this table without a red 'n gold tie, Malfoy." He said in a very annoyed tone of voice. The two of them looked to be five seconds away from taking out their wands. Maisie's self-preservation won, and she began to reach for her bag, her eyes darting between her classmates cautiously, hoping neither would notice her edging out of the way. Why was this happening?! Did Malfoy do this on purpose?! Was he trying to turn her House against her?! He'd find that to be a difficult task, they barely knew that she WAS in Gryffindor, let alone in their year!

"I have a red and gold tie, Finnegan." He said mockingly just before gesturing very obviously to her. "There she is. She and I are eating lunch together."

Maisie froze mid-slide. She was now a few seats away from them, almost pressing up against a few second years, but still he pointed directly at her. And now, Finnegan and Thomas were looking at her, along with most of their friends. They looked surprised that they had overlooked her. Since when was there a girl across from Malfoy?

"You're lying." Finnegan scoffed.

"Hey Dean, Seamus, what's going on?" Ronald Weasley asked. Maisie covered her mouth, trying desperately to forget that she had seen way too much of him just a month ago. Eugh. Weasley glared then at Malfoy, who only was watching this occur with amusement mixed with terrible condescension. "What the hell are you doing here?" He grunted. Before she could slip away, she was once again pointed at―rudely―by Thomas as he began to explain to Weasley why Malfoy was supposedly there.

"One of ours apparently invited Malfoy over for a lunch date."

"No!" Maisie exclaimed. "No no, no lunch date, I didn't, I mean―hey, c'mon! I didn't invite―augh!" She gasped as her distress heightened even further when they didn't even notice her speaking, only continued their harsh and heavy glares towards the quite uncaring Malfoy, though his hawthorn wand WAS out and being fiddled between his fingers.

It was actually Weasley who cast the first hex. After that, it was all bright spells and a loud hustle and bustle. Maisie dropped underneath the table as quickly as possible, grabbing hold of her bag and dragging it behind her as she crawled away from the table and then ran quickly away from the Great Hall, her heartbeat as fast as Eugenia's when she's on the run from Trevor the Toad. She stayed in the middle of the Tapestry corridor which was quite blissfully empty at the moment, besides the presence of the many portraits across the walls.

Maisie slumped onto her bum, leaning against the portrait of Katyusha the Knavish who only glanced at the living girl leaning on her for a moment before going back to speaking with her neighbor.

She stayed there awhile, hugging her knees which didn't seem as knobby as they had been two weeks before, and bitterly began to think of ways to promptly slap her cousin in the face without being directly responsible. Who was he to just approach her and sit at the Gryffindor table like that!? Never in the four years they had gone to Hogwarts had he ever wanted to eat a meal with her. _He must be trying to get to me for some reason,_ Maisie thought grimly as the picture of her cousin's pointed, pale face came to mind. Perhaps send a hexed letter?

 _No, that won't work. I don't know any hexes like that,_ she remembered, a bit disappointedly.

But Fleur might.

"Severus, you cannot keep ignoring me!"

The back of her neck suddenly became quite chilly and damp.

"I have no clue why you keep coming to me about this, Igor. You know what you must do, why continue this assault?" That _was_ Snape! And Igor Karkaroff, Krum's Headmaster. They knew each other?

Maisie clamped her hands over her mouth and pushed herself against the portrait of Katyusha, her eyes wide and a bit fearful as she listened to a conversation she most definitely SHOULD NOT be listening to. It wasn't her place to know the affairs of grown men. But still, as much as she desperately wanted to get up from this place on the corner and leave, Snape would hear her and then he and Karkaroff would do who knows what to her!?

"He's coming back, Severus. The Dark Lord, you know he is." She heard Karkaroff hiss at her Potions Professor.

It was almost like she had apparated a mile above the ground and let herself fall. Her limbs slumped out of her tight grip from the shock alone. The Dark Lord, he called him.

 _Mairead, here now... Good girl..._

"Then do as I said. Flee." Snape's voice was considerably quieter, and that much more frightening to her ears. "I will make your excuses to everyone. Your students will be in good hands. Run and hide, Igor."

Listen to them.

Remember the fear in Karkaroff's voice. The uneasiness.

Something wet dropped on her face. Numbly, Maisie raised up her hand and touched her cheek with her fingertips. There were tears coming from her eyes, she was crying. She was not sad. Finding her own reaction puzzling, she began to raise herself up just as the bell rang, signaling the end of the lunch period. Maisie wiped away at the salty tears, gathering up her bag, and then began to walk almost zombie-like to her next class, almost completely ignoring the tingling pin and needle pain she felt in her head.

/~/

"There's a letter for you on your bed." Parvati told her when she entered the dormitory at the end of the day. "We tried to take it for you, but the owl just kept flying away from us. Broke Hermione's lamp, so we gave up." The pretty Indian girl shrugged, pointing to the broken mess at the bed in the corner which so happened to be the mu―muggleborn witch's bed. The fact that they had just left it there amused her for some reason and Maisie smiled at the other girl, telling her her thanks.

She swept Eugenia up from her sleep and put her in her lap while she picked the letter from the owl and gave it a few rat treats from her desk. It took them and flew out of the girl's dorm window. As Maisie scratched Eugenia's head with one hand, she opened the letter and began to read.

 _Dear Miss Mairead Martin-Moors, we have sent this letter to inform you of your future participation in the Second Task of the Triwizard Tournament..._

* * *

 **Once again, a kinda short chapter, but it's longer than the last two!**

 **guess what you guys, i'm going to france in the spring! ahhhhhh, fraaaaanccceee, the freencccch, parle vous francaisssssssssssss**

 **Read, Review and Follow/Favorite you guys!**


	15. Chapter 15

**Greetings, and welcome to the second task! hooray for mermaids! also, did any of you guess who Maisie would be the 'treasure most surely missed' for?** **thanks Lady Ravanna, AvalontheLadyKiller, MissVolturiKingsfan, XxRemus John LupinxX, Monciak, SilentDaisyWolf19 and two Guests for reviewing that last chapter!**

 **also i see a serious divide on shipping right now**

 **( of course voldemort/maisie is a clear end result, but in the meantime, there are some xtreme FleurMaisie shippers hanging out, and maybe 2 HarryMaisie shippers who are just like 'omigosh potter, date her already')**

 **all of you are winners. all of these are happening in a way. FleurMaisie is happening now, HarryMaisie is really in the next book in a goddamn heavy sense. it gets really sexual and sort of frightening, thats when my severe warnings about scary shit and kind of dubcon stuff happens (ill definitely warn all of you about this before hand, and i really have to stress on the DUBCON of it, not at all NONCON, i promise.) and i hope none of this is discouraging to you, harry is clearly NOT a bad guy or person in anyway, he's just an angsty teenager who's horny and who has voldemort putting scary visions of people dying in his head**

 **(also im changing the date of the second task, just so it'll be THAT MUCH colder for everyone to swim around in the Black Lake)**

* * *

 **February 11th** **, 1995**

 **Hogwarts, Scotland**

 ** _The Four Prizes Beneath the Lake  
_**

* * *

Fleur was in a frenzy of both excitement and fear. The chill of the outside was terrible, though the snow had stopped last night, the remnants of it still sent icy shivers down her spine. Hell, she wouldn't go for a swim in France in the Winter. Scotland was half the warmth of France in February, which wasn't much at all. The french witch tied her light-colored robes around herself and cast a warming charm―which unfortunately wouldn't last once she was underwater―over herself. It was early in the morning, the rest of the Beauxbatons students were likely still asleep, which was good, Fleur thought.

Their encouragements would only make her nervous.

She wasn't going to let herself over think the Second Task. Fleur knew that she was to retrieve a treasure, and that mermaids were going to await her there. It was likely for grindylows and kelpies to be waiting for her as well, along with who knows what from the surrounding Forests that enjoyed the occasional dip in the Lake (though she found that selkies would be unlikely, as she read that they specifically preferred salt water rather than fresh, following with the seal migrations in the area.) Fleur just had to be prepared for anything. Find her treasure, all the while fighting off any creatures that may come along wanting to keep her from it.

Fleur let out a deep breath, which felt so heavy even as it left out of her nostrils.

She nodded once to herself before grasping her wand, feeling the comforting sense of power that came from it, from the silvery hair of her Grandmother that rested within the rosewood. It gently swept over her in a familiar way, the same way it had for the past seven years. The young witch put her wand away on her hip, securing it there before setting her hair back in a low tail. Her eyes flickered to the clock on the wall, which revealed to her that it was now 6:28 in the morning. They'd await her at 8 o'clock at the docks atop of the Black Lake.

First, breakfast. She told herself, though eating was certainly the last thing that she wanted to do.

Her own growing sensitivity was causing her adrenaline to rush and her hunger was virtually nonexistence. Maisie would likely scold her when she reached the table, only to consume nothing. Fleur considered not going to the Great Hall. It wasn't that dear of a location to her (except that that was where she saw Maisie the most, spent the most time with her and that the other Champions were often found around the room, making it that much easier for her to scope out how the others were doing in the tasks preparation), the Great Hall was quite uncouth and rather unpleasant. It was covered in dark wood with cobblestone walls and adorned with several obvious fireplaces that remained burning throughout the day.

It wasn't home. Home was light colored walls, ice sculptors, crystal chandeliers and the naturally warm climate of France.

She craved the familiar smell of French cuisine and the tartness of French wine.

Fleur left her room and was greeted by her Headmistress. She was dressed in warm furs and dark green velvet. On her head was a grey fur cap that might have been mink. Maxine gave her a look that simply asked her, 'Are you prepared?' The answer she gave was, 'I have to be.'

She was reserved, and Maxine gave her a rare violet painted smile. The large Beauxbatons Headmistress joined her Champion on the trek up to the Castle.

/~/

As Harry breathed the burningly cold air that surrounded the Black Lake, he noticed that Fleur seemed quite uneasy. The very pretty French witch, though she looked determined and every bit the Champion that she was, her eyes would flicker this way and that, and at any noise, her head would jerk almost the same way a bird would. Behind her was a younger girl who looked so extraordinarily like her, surrounded by many of the other Beauxbatons girls, whose light robes were in no way suited to the freezing Scottish day, as displayed by the peaks that their nipples made from underneath the silken fabric.

Harry couldn't focus quite so much on that however, he was so much more attentive to the bundle of gillyweed he had in his pocket that Dobby had shoved at him not 30 minutes ago. He had to recover 'his Wheezy' from the bottom of the Lake. But he couldn't help the intense curiosity over who else was taken to be their 'treasure they would most surely miss.' He hadn't seen Hermione since yesterday, and when he looked over at the large crowd of people, he couldn't pick out her face.

The roar of the crowd was turning into empty noise in his ears.

Ludo Bagman had begun to move them along the dock, ten feet away from each other in a row. He was at the end of the row, next to Krum, whose large and very strong looking body and stance, coupled with the stern expression he always seemed to have, made him quite the figure. Especially next to himself, who was at least 20 centimeters shorter and 30 pounds leaner than the large Bulgarian Durmstrang Champion. Rather than feeling small, Harry just narrowed his brows, ticked off at being placed next to his fellow Seekers (Diggory, that foul prick, who was so stupid, tall and handsome and had kissed Cho Chang goodnight that night of the Yule Ball and so horribly had given him help with his Golden Egg. Fucking arsehole.) had resigned himself and began to tighten his fists, trying to fight the chill with his frustration.

"All right, Harry?" Bagman asked him in a quiet almost-whisper. "Know what you're going to do?"

"Yeah, I do." He answered him, rubbing that spot on his ribs that stung from his sprint to the docks and the breathing of such icy air.

Ludo grasped his shoulder and squeezed it before returning to the judges table. His voice soon was echoing throughout the area from his _'Sonorus!'_ ; And now he was declaring to the crowd, "Well, all of our champions are ready for the second task, which will start on my whistle." Harry reached into his pocket and took hold of the slimy spaghetti-like herb. "They have precisely an hour to recover what has been taken from them. On the count of three, then." Fine. He was prepared.

"One..."

Harry took the gillyweed out of his shorts.

"Two..."

He shoved the foul vegetation into his mouth, struggling to force it all at once and chew it.

"Three!" A loud, shrill sound of many whistles blowing all at once came through his ears, and Harry half-choked on the only partially chewed up plant as it went down his throat with the same texture as almost-thawed out gelatin strings. His robes, shoes and socks were discarded in almost 4 seconds flat and the applause coming from the stadium was turned on mute the moment he hit the below freezing Lake water. It was the coldest he's ever been in his life, especially when water flowed into his ears and his nostrils. It was almost comparable to walking around bare-bummed in four feet of freshly fallen snow, so that snow would stick _especially_ to your cock and balls.

His shorts, soaked in the ice water, weighed him down below the surface. Harry was glad for that, he didn't want to hear them react to how he was just waiting there, the gillyweed still sliding down his throat, to see what would happen.

A piercing, slicing pain then occurred on either side of his neck. It was numbed by the ice water, but it still caused him to croak out an empty sound of pain, a large bubble of air escaping from his mouth which immediately floated up to the surface above his head.

Then, suddenly he could breathe. From the water. He had three gills on either side of his neck now, his hands and feet had become webbed like the fins of a trout.

The water around him was suddenly not so blistering to his skin, but rather a pleasant feeling against his skin, cool like the wind on a warm spring afternoon. So Harry then did the one thing he thought was the smartest. He dove as far as he possibly could in the Lake, moving through and past the reeds and other sort of sea plants that were floating around him, swaying from his movements through the water.

/~/

Fleur, even though she knew that her warming charm wouldn't survive the trip into the Lake water, damned herself for at least attempting another one before diving.

It was so freezing that she was sure that her fingers and toes had turned themselves blue, and her nipples were so hard that they might as well be stabbing themselves with knives in an attempt to cut themselves from her body and float up out of the icy cold to the surface. As if the chilly morning would give any sun to warm themselves. In a show of frustration, she blasted a long growth of seaweed that had gotten in her way. Being in the water, she was slow-moving, and being almost frozen wasn't helping her any!

Fleur kicked her legs and moved through the water. She couldn't hear much, but she could see almost clearly in front of her. Far ahead of her, it was murky green.

There were tiny silver fish that moved past her, uncaring of her presence.

She swam further down. More reeds and weeds. Fleur kept her wand ready in her fist, tightly gripping it so she wouldn't drop it. A very light colored movement in the corner of her eye caught her attention and sent a wave of panic through her. It looked to be a glowing, pale figure that had moved very quickly past her. Another Champion? A creature? A spirit? A mean spell was on the tip of her tongue and she began to turn herself around.

The daunting feeling that she was being _surrounded_ filled her. Every rustle of the seaweeds around her could be such a thing that was intent on keeping her from her treasure and her much deserved victory.

Another movement! In her swift turn, she caught sight of a woman's leg. It almost radiated light like a beacon in the murky green-blue water that was all around her. It's glow was unnatural for any human being, as it was more like lighting a candle in a dark room than if someone accidentally drank a glowing potion or made a mistake with a lighting charm. It wasn't another Champion.

This particular creature, a Nixes was the first that came to Fleur's mind, was watching her from behind the large swaying of weeds, with only it's glowing limbs (which was slowly diminishing, the longer she stared at where it was) visible to her. No doubt she was hoping to drag her below and drown her. If she didn't have a wand on her, the creature would have likely already done so. Gone below and underneath her like a large shark, grab hold of her ankles and do whatever Nixes' or other malevolent sea-nymphs did to their victims once they had them. No one really knew, they could only assume and take the words of the ones who spoke to them willingly.

The french witch, whose Veela blood simply _wouldn't_ allow her to let this unworthy and disgusting water-dwelling female creature overtake her! A Veela, a magnificent, beautiful creature who was obviously so superior to this Nixes, even in it's own territory! So without another second's hesitation, Fleur blasted the other with her wand.

Fleur was pleased at the sound the creature let out at the pain her wand had left. It was a terrible, haunting wail. It then darted away from her, it's glow gone and now left with flesh that looked the exact color as the reeds around them. The movement from all around her suddenly occurring startled her, and then she realized how close to dying she had been just then. It had been surrounding her, with either her sisters or brothers Necks, and that one had been made out to be a distraction while they circled.

Fleur swallowed back the lump in her throat and continued swimming along, away from the weeds in case the Nixes' decided to return.

/~/

Harry hated this Lake.

The Giant Squid wasn't the most dangerous thing in here. Hell, if Hagrid was more fond of water-monsters, he'd probably be able to write up a whole new syllabus for the next year, and they'd never have to have anything shipped into the Castle or bred! He wasn't sure if he'd ever really know what the scariest thing was, but those stupid grindylows probably wouldn't even make the top ten if he really tried to mark one up. With his now finned fingers and feet, he swam quickly past the reeds where the water demons were hiding and towards a more open space in the Lake.

 _Nothing's safe down here_ , he thought tiredly as he saw a dark shadow across from him on the other side of the open space, in yet another group of seaweed that was growing on top of a large rock formation. Whatever it was, it looked like it wasn't going to be friendly, especially not when it turned like it was going to swim across the large cavern to get to him.

Harry moved along his side of the cavern. To his surprise and growing dread, the shadow mimicked him. It moved _exactly_ as he did on it's side of the empty cavern. As his eyes focused more on the creature, he began to notice that it also had long flippers for feet, what looked like shorts and finned hands. When he moved right, so did it. When he swam left? So did it.

He gulped down the saliva that should have been in his mouth; It felt quite dry just then.

Harry darted forward, coming to a large tower-like rock and placed his hand on it. When he turned to look across the cavern, to see if that shadow had done the same, he noticed that it was gone.

His blood, if it hadn't already been cold from the gillyweed, would have become so.

The Boy-Who-Lived turned to look the other way, near the weeds, and saw a horrifying looking person who looked _just like him._ It had his face, his shorts, his arms and legs. But the color was wrong, it looked like the dead version of him. When it tried to mimic the shout of surprise and fear the water around him had swallowed from the real Harry, the false Harry looked as if it was ripping his face in half, the skin stretching like rubber and tearing itself apart, revealing inside of this version of his face a black hole surrounded by terrifying looking sharp teeth. He tried to raise up his wand―the fake him did it too―but then the fake him, darted forward.

Whatever it was had stopped it's mimicking game and was now moving forward just as he was moving back into the clearing behind him. It swam like he did, and the horrifying experience of watching his own face get stretched and torn off of this bizarre sea creature was almost too deafening. He couldn't even think of a spell to cast. This thing is going to eat me, this thing is going to eat me, this thing is going to eat me, he chanted in his head with wide eyes as it watched it mimic his leg movements and the way he shook his head back and forth, as if telling it 'no, no, no' in that universal language would make it stop it's fervent advance.

He moved back faster, flipping the fins on his feet.

It did the exact same, only forward.

His back hit a large growth of coral.

Then, a large, tentacled red thing moved past him, with a gigantic beak snatching his slowly approaching mimic and taking off with it. The mimc ripped open his face, letting out empty screams with the two halves of his mutilated face as the Giant Squid snapped its beak around it's middle and consumed it like it was a crisp he'd casually tossed in his mouth. The huge red tentacles wrapped around the corpse of whatever-it-was, and with a deafening sound, the Giant Squid swam away in a mass full of the mimic's blood and ink.

Harry squeezed his lips together and tried not to be sick, not wanting to see his vomit float up around his head.

/~/

Fleur continued to sweep over the near-bottom of the Lake, searching high and low for the merpeople that held her treasure. The books only assured her that they were in the Lake, not their precise location. It was making the task difficult, and the blonde witch narrowed her eyes when she came across several more feet of weeds. There was more coral-like rocks and formations in this area than the other side, so that might be proof she was getting closer.

She hoped she was not running out of time. It felt like mere minutes since she first dived in and encountered the Nixes, but who knew how many had really passed since then?

Fleur looked around. She saw something moving, but it was too small to be a mermaid or a Nixes.

Then, something sharply clawed and scaly grabbed hold of her ankle and _yanked_ her down so quickly that her long blonde hair all around her face was all she could see. Her panicked kicks only seemed to encourage whatever it was to bring it's friends, because even more of these things clamped onto her legs and pulled her lower into the water. Painful things suctioned themselves onto her skin and she cried out into the bubble around her face when something most definitely sank it's sharp teeth into her inner thigh, the agony coming to the sensitive area almost making her drop her wand.

They swarmed her, and all she could do was shoot up a spark of red from her wand.

/~/

"How're you getting on with the Task then, Harry?" Myrtle's voice almost gave him a heart attack. "Noticed you made friends with one of those nasty Echoes. Not smart there." She snarked to him, floating there like she would in the Castle.

"Myrtle!" He attempted to shout, or scold the ghost. A big bubble escaped his mouth, and Myrtle giggled at him.

"You should try over there." She pointed a ghostly finger. "I won't come with you though. I don't like them, they always chase me when I get too close to their village." Harry looked where she pointed before nodding and giving her a thumbs up for the help. Myrtle looked very pleased at that response, so he swam over in the direction where she pointed.

Sure enough, he hear the echos of the haunting song from the Golden Egg. " _An hour long you'll have to look... To recover what we took..._ "

He followed the mer-song and swam past a large rock-entrance that seemed to have drawings on it of the Giant Squid and several merpeople fighting it off with spears and other weapons like that.

" _...your time's half-gone, so tarry not... Lest what you seek stays here to rot..._ "

As he entered the mer-village, he remembered some years ago, before Hogwarts, in Little Whinging, Dudley stormed home with a plastic fish tank and a package that looked like seeds and declared that he was going to have his own sea-monkey zoo. On the outside of the package that Dudley brought home was a picture of a green, fishy looking woman, man and child. She was carrying a pot-roast, and had a yellow apron tied around her waist. The man wore a tie, hat, and was reading the paper. The boy had a ball-cap on and was smiling.

Those sea monkeys looked more like these merpeople than the beautiful glass figure in the Prefect's bathroom.

They had greyish, green skin and long green hair that flowed all around them like a hag if she had been plunged underwater. None of them were even slightly beautiful, or even human-like. They looked more like fish, with broken yellow teeth, pebbles around their necks and flat bodies from their collars to their tails, unlike the Mermaid in the bathroom, who had an obvious bosom and light brown hair, with lips and feminine eyes.

When he swam past, they leered at him, clutching powerful looking spears.

There was a choir behind them, singing the song for the Champions. And there, tied to the tail of a large Mer-statue, were four people. Ron, Hermione, Cho and Maisie.

Harry hurried to them. They all appeared to be in a deep sleep, their heads lulled to one side as air bubbles occasionally escaped from their lips and up to the surface. When he got close, he expected the merpeople to approach him with their spears, put up another fight for him to get through. But they did nothing, only watched him as he got within arms reach. Apparently just getting there in one piece was enough for them. The weed clinging to all four of their legs was strong and thick, there was no way he'd be able to untie it.

He looked over, at the very end of the line of hostages, next to Cho Chang where Maisie hung, bubbles floating from between her lips. Was she Fleur's hostage? The two spent a lot of time together, she must have been. But then with Viktor and Cedric, they took their Yule Ball dates as their hostages. Why wasn't Maisie his hostage, rather than Fleur's, since he took her to the Ball?

But his thoughts weren't as important now, because then the merpeople all around him began to get very excited. Diggory was swimming over to him, a bubble-charm around his mouth and nose. He swam past Harry to Cho, whose black hair all around her was floating up above her head.

"Got lost!" He mouthed at him. "Fleur and Krum're coming now!" He looked panicked.

Relieved, especially now that he took a second look over at Maisie, who was now swaying with the movement of Cedric cutting Cho free and swimming up and away with her, Harry picked up a sharp rock from the bottom of the stature and began to hack at the weed keeping Ron tethered to the giant merperson statue.

Krum wasn't far behind, with the head of a Great White shark and his human body. He frightened the surrounding merpeople, especially when he snapped the weed holding Hermione with his teeth and left with her.

All left was Fleur.

At least three minutes passed, and there was still no sign of the french witch.

With another feeling of panic, Harry took out his wand, grasping the back of Ron's heavy robes and dragging him over to where Maisie was. With his wand, he disintegrated the weed and grasped her around her thin waist before beginning the harsh swim up to the surface with two bodies weighing him down like bags of rocks. The merpeople were swimming around him, almost in circles, surrounding him to observe how his swimming was clearly becoming worse, especially when his gills disappeared and the fins that were his feet retreated back into being toes and muscle.

He kicked harder, his legs now burning, even with the icy cold of the Lake surrounding him.

He tightened his grip on Ron and Maisie, propelling himself up.

Stinging air greeted him. It filled his lungs and stung him like millions of needles, but it was refreshing and satisfying. Cheers greeted his head popping out of the lake with Ron and Maisie. The sound of snapping pictures, horns, drums, and thrilled shouts all in a strange sort of chorus. Ron became conscious first, spluttering out water and shaking his wet head as he began to kick his legs when he realized he was drenched in the Lake. "Fuckit, it's bloody freezing!" Ron croaked, shuddering.

"Really? Thanks for the news." He returned in a drawl.

Ron spied Maisie―who had just begun to flutter her eyes open and gain consciousness ―and raised a ginger brow at his friend. He looked like he was about to say something about it, but Harry told him to stow it until they got up onto the dock, splashing him with the Lake water.

Maisie, whose teeth were chattering and lips looked a tad too blue, clearly didn't know how to swim. Harry and Ron let her cling to their shoulders as they swam the few feet to the dock and she was the first who was yanked up and away by Madam Pomfrey. She was bundled up by the Matron in dozens of blankets, and was then given at least two potions while Harry and Ron pulled themselves up onto the wooden structure. She wasn't far behind in wrapping all of them in towels and blankets either.

Percy yanked Ron towards him, looking white as he looked his younger brother over, seeming to channel his mother as he turned Ron around to make sure he was unharmed, much to his brother's embarrassment and gruff 'Gerroff!'

" _May-sea!_ " Fleur cried out, fighting against Madam Maxine, who was trying to keep her from barreling through the group of people in front of her in order to get to her friend. The strength of a half-giant didn't seem to be enough, because the blonde witch knocked down two reporters in order to throw her arms around the shivering Gryffindor girl and press her lips repeatedly over Maisie's blue ones and her bright red cheeks that were only starting to return to their normal color from the potions that Pomfrey had given her.

Harry was astounded to see two girls kissing, but didn't have enough attention to give to their acts of friendship, as Hermione had grabbed him and was now kissing the top of his head, her hands yanking his head forward so she could do so. "Ow, Hermione! I'm fine!"

"You did it Harry, all by yourself!" She said brightly. He wasn't about to tell her about Dobby helping him, especially with Karkaroff glaring at him from where he was standing with Krum.

"Um, yeah, that's right, I did do that." He replied, trying to ignore Karkaroff.

/~/

"Are you well?" She whispered to Maisie, still clutching her towel-encompassed body to herself.

"Yeah, I'm okay." Maisie murmured, nodding her head into Fleur's neck, which she was making wet again from her soaking brown hair.

"I... It was ze grindylows." Fleur started, briefly glancing down at herself, as she was covered in bruises and cuts. The bite mark she had on her inner thigh was still burning from the salve the Matron had placed on it. "Zhey attacked me before I could reach you."

"I know. It's okay, grindylows are good at attacking in packs. It's not your fault, it could have happened to anybody." She replied, her voice soft, like her vocal chords were strained in some way. Her voice was so soft that Fleur felt like she might weep in her arms.

"It didn't 'appen to anybody. It happened to _me_. I should 'ave been more prepared and I am so s-sorry." Her voice broke almost pathetically, when she was tempted just to forgo English all together and return to her native French. English was not at all a compelling language, Fleur couldn't even think of the words she wanted to use to convey her deepest regret and sorrow for Maisie that this had happened to her because she, as a Beauxbatons Champion and her friend, was not prepared enough to protect her.

"Fleur―" Maisie started, clearly about to protest, but the french witch raised up her hand to stop her from speaking.

"I vill make zis up to you." Fleur stated, full of emotion.

The points were given, with Fleur arriving in last, and the date for the Third and Final Task was set for June 24th.

* * *

 **aaaaaah underwater adventuresssss**

 **also, Nixes are from Germanic and some Scandinavian folklore, while the Echoes are my take on the Echo and Narcissus myth of Ancient Greece ahhhh**

 **Read, Review, Follow/Favorite~**


	16. Chapter 16

**Thanks Lady Ravanna, XxRemus John LupinxX, Chocoholics Unite, FluentinBullshit, AvalonTheLadyKiller and maighdean mhara for reviewing!**

 **I'm getting close to having 100 people favoriting this story, and 150 followers! How thrilling!**

 **Also if any of you want to see what Maisie kinda looks like, look up Colleen Corby on Google. That's the closest I could find for the Maisie I have in my head (though you guys should imagine her with a stronger jawline. I'd say masculine jawline, cause it's a feature she got from her father, but then I just imagine the Govenator. Maybe I'll edit a photo to be a bit more maisie-ish.)**

 **(Also my Fleur is kind of Valentina Zelyaeva rather than** **Clémence Poésy, if just because when I originally read Goblet of Fire as a kid, I saw Fleur as this kind of Euro-trashy, super beautiful model-y type like Twiggy or Tyra Banks, because everyone literally was like 'oh shit shes so fucking hot, i might die' when they saw her, and Cl** **émence** **isn't that Fleur for me)**

* * *

 **February** **, 1995**

 **Hogwarts, Scotland**

 _ **Le Coeur du Mien, Cessent Votre Battement**_

* * *

Madam Pomfrey was a very difficult woman to ignore.

She'd only called her 'Miss Moors' twice now (after she'd corrected her a tally of three times) and now was remaining quite busy with measuring out potions, a pink flush on the old woman's face. Probably mortified at forgetting her name, Maisie assumed as she waited for the Matron to finish her measuring, so she could take her potions and be on her merry way.

Coming out of the Lake two days ago after the Second Task, Maisie still had not quite recovered. The Matron assumed that she had gotten a bit of sickness from not immediately drying after getting out of the cold water. So the past few days had been full of her downing Pepper-Ups and other such foul tasting potions in small quantities so her body would not overheat. Being more sensitive of flesh than the others, she was the only one still taking potions two full days later (though Fleur had been taking some for a day and a half later, but those were mostly just for the wounds she received from the grindylows.)

"Open now, dear." Pomfrey told her, holding a tray of long, skinny glass containers, all of them for her to take.

Maisie pursed her lips and took the first potion from the tray, downing it quickly so she wouldn't have to taste it. The next two were swallowed in the same way, but they left a cloying, sticky taste all on the inside of her mouth. It was foul.

"Very good. You may go now, but come back if you still feel a chill." She advised her before turning away, her long skirts flowing around her as she went to help a boy who came in with icicles hanging out of his nostrils.

The sable-haired girl wrapped her heavily lined winter cloak around herself tightly before getting off of the medical bed and escaping out of the Hospital Wing. More and more people were coming into it from snow-related injuries, and she didn't want to get lost within the hoards of first and second years (she towered over the younger students, even in her flat winter boots.) It was still very early in the morning on that Thursday, breakfast was starting and people were coming down from their Common Rooms to reach for their morning cups of tea and bowls of porridge.

As Maisie headed into the Great Hall, she noticed that all of the Durmstrang students were dressed in matching, warm brown uniforms which were covered by fur-cloaks over their right shoulders quite handsomely.

Ignoring it, mostly assuming it as just being a cultural difference, she shifted her bag over her shoulder before looking around the Ravenclaw table for Fleur. It was mostly empty, so rather than sitting over there and waiting for her friend to join her, she sat at her table, in front of a large platter of pork sausages. The potions that Pomfrey had given her made her hungry, so she helped herself to the sausages and some oatmeal. The floating white tea pot was a few people away. Unwilling to wait for it, Maisie flicked her willow wand at it, making it cease in it's slow float and instead moved quite quickly (for a tea pot) over to her.

It turned itself and poured steaming hot English Breakfast into her teacup while she cut up her pork sausages with her knife and fork.

The mail should be coming soon, and she was hoping to get a reply from her Father on what they'd be doing for Easter. Venus had wanted them to join her at the house she bought. Before her Aunt had bought it, it had been owned by an old wizard who supposedly had transfigured his left arm into a violin so he could be that much more involved in his music. It was set on Newgale beach in Wales, and it was all Venus could talk about in her letters. That, and how much she thought the Welsh street names were unnecessary and stupid. Especially after a few pints.

Venus said she'd try and get her Father to go along with it.

Really, Maisie thought that the refurbished Lighthouse of her Aunt's sounded splendid. It was right on the beach, near a small and hidden wizarding community. Venus said that the town was made up of a cluster of maybe fifteen small buildings all cramped up together on top of one of the cliffs. Close enough where they could get groceries and such from there rather than Apparating to one of the muggle cities.

She sipped her hot tea, mostly eying the open window where the owls would fly through expectantly.

Fleur slid into onto the bench in front of her, and Maisie greeted her with a smile before noticing that she wasn't alone. She'd brought _Viktor Krum_ with her.

Maisie had never spoken a single word to the Durmstrang Triwizard Champion. For one thing, she hardly ever saw him except for when she made trips to the Library. He was always lingering between the bookshelves (his group of young, giggling admirers never all that far behind him) reading thick novels and textbooks. He was very tall, very athletic, and handsome in a brutish and silent sort of way. Meaning that he was already so much more important than she was, and she had absolutely no reason to be speaking to him at all. Which was why suddenly being presented by him by Fleur was frightening.

Moreover because of the fact that neither Fleur nor Krum were speaking.

And Fleur was looking at her like she _should_ be speaking. Waggling her blonde eyebrows up and down expectantly at her.

A bit nervous and uncomfortable, Maisie opened her mouth, saying hesitantly, "Good morning."

"Zdraveĭte." Krum returned, looking equally as startled as she probably did. The Gryffindor witch didn't know what he said, or what language it was―though it sort of sounded like Russian, and it was quite attractive, which made her not want to be in front of him all that much more―but she hoped that it was along the lines of 'hello' as well.

When she looked purposely at Fleur for a damn bloody explanation for why bleeding Viktor Krum was sitting with them, that blasted foreign witch only turned her head and made absolutely no excuse for Krum's addition to their breakfast table! Underneath the table, Maisie tapped Fleur's ankle with the toe of her shoes. But she only shrugged nonchalantly and began to serve herself a poached egg and Canadian Bacon.

Krum reached forward in a very gliding way and tapped her on the hand.

"May-ce?" He said like a question. His touch made her jump, just from how rough his fingertips felt. Krum said her name differently than how Fleur said it. When Fleur said her name, it was like she was singing a song, making it sound so nice and pleasant. When Krum said it, it sounded very weirdly male, and made her want to cross her legs very tightly.

"Yes?" She replied, her voice stupidly high-pitched. Fleur frowned into her tea.

Krum leaned forward, resting his large forearms on the table in front of him. He hunched his shoulders down then suddenly, as if by trying to make himself smaller, she'd be more at ease.

"I vas vondering if I could ask vou a quevstion?" He rumbled, raising his bushy eyebrows up at her.

Maisie blinked rapidly and twisted the napkin on her lap before nodding briskly. _What in Merlin's Beard would Viktor Krum want to ask me?_ She thought with a touch of distress. Where was He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named now? This would be a good prime time for him to cause her pain, then maybe she could escape from this situation. But no, nothing. That damned dead Dark Lord was never there when she wanted him.

Krum took a suspicious look around the room, and then at Fleur.

Her friend sighed a bit dramatically and swept her hair behind her before pointedly picking up her food and sliding away from them down the stool, to the empty corner of the Gryffindor table near the door. It wasn't until she was five feet away that the large Bulgarian boy seemed satisfied and moved back to speak with her.

"I vas vondering vhat vour opinion is on Harry Potter." He then said reluctantly.

 _A firm, solid weight was on top of her stomach and hips. Harry kept pushing himself down, holding her wrists to the carpet as he tried to keep her from screaming that Sirius Black was in the Common Room._

"P-potter, you say?" Maisie asked, disappointed at her own stutter. She picked up her tea and sipped it, flinching when she found it was cold. Viktor noticed this and took out his wand, tapping it on her teacup and reheating it. Steam flowed out of it. The only thing that hadn't happened was the tea in her cup bubbling around the edges, boiling again.

"Yes." Krum said.

Maisie picked up her cup again. "He's an alright bloke." She then said, looking at Krum and his surly and strange disposition, wondering why of all people he was asking her this. Why not that muggleborn Granger? He went to the Ball with her, and was often lingering around her behind shelves and walls. "I'm sorry, but I do have to wonder this... Why are you asking me and not Granger? She knows him better than I do. He and I barely talk." Maisie narrowed her shoulders into herself, hoping that Krum didn't have a horrible temper. Would Fleur have left her there alone with him if he did have a temper?

 _No,_ she thought firmly. _Fleur wouldn't have left me with someone who'd be dangerous._

And Maisie definitely understood not wanting to be around Hermione Granger.

"Herm-own-ninny... Is friends vith Potter. She vould not answer me honestly." He answered, looking almost frustrated and angry. "And vou two do talk. I've seen vou. He stops in the middle of the valkvay to vatch vou. And vou two vent to the Ball together."

Her momentary humor at the way he said Granger's first name vanished at this new information. Oh Morgana, does Potter actually do that? Embarrassed, she raised her hand up over her mouth to mask her horror. It didn't work, because Krum looked amused now by her, like she was some cute animal that did something silly. He chuckled deeply and picked up a piece of toast from the tray that was floating past them.

"Vou did not know? Truly?" He wondered, his eyes twinkling in a way that was almost Dumbledore-like, which made her feel like she might be sick. Or was that the potions she took in the Infirmary?

"'Ave you been frightening 'er?" Fleur asked, a bit outraged as she returned to them, unwilling to stand by and watch any longer. Her beautiful blue eyes looked sharper, especially as she glared pointedly at Krum for an explanation.

He rolled his eyes. "No, I'm not frightening her, Fleur. Just surprising 'er." Krum's mocking of the witch's accent made the blonde scoff, unappreciatively.

"With what?"

"Things." Krum returned.

After a bit more arguing between the two foreigners, the bronze tax of the conversation was that what Krum wanted was if Granger and Potter had ever been romantic with each other. That rather disgusting thought made her wrinkle her nose in distaste before telling him 'no'. She thought that if Granger had ever been in love with Potter, she wouldn't be all that good at hiding it, and would act much like Lavender and Parvati did when Professor Lockhart had been their Defense teacher. A huge mural with his face and anything he ever touched pinned to the wall (rather than the stacks upon stacks of books that were covering up Granger's wall.) Granger didn't seem all that reserved when it came down to it.

Her owl arrived soon after that, along with everyone else's mail. Krum took his leave soon after he got what he wanted, giving both of them a firm nod of the head before leaving the Hall altogether.

"So, you and Krum are chatty, are you?" Maisie asked, attempting to be nonchalant as she used an unused butter knife to open up her letter. The owl that delivered it was happily gorging himself on blood sausages.

Fleur smoothed back her long blonde hair, shrugging her shoulder. "Only recently. We're all trying to figure out ze final task. I zhink it might be something underground. Treasure hunting 'erhaps. Gold. All of ze tasks, we've been trying to retrieve something. Eet might be the same for ze last." She reasoned, gesturing her elegant hands in front of her.

Maisie figured that made more sense, rather that strange feeling that made her think that it was something else. She took out the letter from it's envelope and unfolded it. She was right, it was her Father.

 _Maisie,_

 _Your Aunt is very insistent on having us both over at that Lighthouse of hers. I've been inside of it, about a month ago, and she barely had any of the old wallpaper removed. It creaked and smelt like seawater. Yet your Aunt keeps speaking about it as if it's been completely remodeled. Knowing her, she's only done the kitchen and parlor. The upstairs will be upside down, and the furniture won't match the drapes._

 _She's invited me to come and see it for myself this afternoon. What's likely to happen is that you and I will stay at home for the Easter holidays, with her owls constantly bothering us to come over and see it._

 _If the house isn't finished, we won't be staying there. I barely want her to live there, but it would do her right to have a sea-soaked wooden post fall on her head! It might lessen the doof-ishness that so often comes out of her face. You know, I so often used to tell you that Venus is the way she is because our Mother once knocked her against the nursery pole, and it's times like these where I'm definitely sure I'm right._

 _I've heard you've been involved in the Triwizard Tournament from the papers! They don't mention you by name, but I can tell from the pictures in the Daily Prophet. You coming out of the Black Lake with Harry Potter! Is something going on with him, Maisie? I'm not pushing, I promise. But I'd like to know, as your Father, if he's trying to court you. He was raised by muggles, you know, he might not know how to properly court someone. If he is, tell him to write me a letter, would you?_

 _Write me soon, I've sent you some fudge and I want to know how well it came out and if I should make them again,_

 _Father_

"Good news?" Fleur inquired after her friend.

"Yes, just plans for when I leave for Easter holidays."

Fleur almost inhaled her tea. "You're leaving?"

"Just for a week. I'll be back before you notice." Maisie promised her, giving her a small smile, hoping to cheer up her beautiful friend. No one had ever really missed her before, it was a brand new experience for her.

"I see."

Her attempt wasn't effective, then. The sable-haired witch picked up the parcel and opened it, finding pink and also minty swirled fudge inside. New for her Father, he usually kept to the recipes he knew. Trying out new things, Venus must have really rubbed off on him. Maisie held the box out to Fleur, offering her some of the gift.

Fleur took one of the pink ones and chewed it silently.

/~/

"You're not upset with me too, are you?" Maisie asked the young unicorn.

It whinnied gently and took the cube of sugar from her palm. In Care of Magical Creatures, they were still on unicorns. Hagrid still kept the boys a bit farther away from the creatures, as they really didn't favor them. Maisie and the rest of the girls were all sitting or squatting in the snow, their long cloaks wrapped tightly around them as they petted the innocent creatures and fed them sugar. The lessons were mostly made up of this, and writing down the importance of the unicorns in their books, with all of their uses in potions and wandmaking and other such things in their world.

Their notebooks were hugely full of notes about them.

Ever since yesterday, Fleur had been strangely reserved around her. Especially when she said she'd be leaving for Easter. Sure, she tried to act normally around her, speak and talk about France, and then insult the Castle in some way like she usually did... But there was something holding her back.

Maisie, frustrated with Fleur, just buried herself in her schoolwork, which had begun to skyrocket.

Moody had given them all essays to write, Snape was ruthless, assigning two Potion reports. McGonagall was lecturing them all about their O.W.L.s, which they'd be taking next school year (giving them dozens of pamphlets and papers to look over and prepare) and in Divination, Trelawney was expecting their Dream Journals for last month to be completely looked over and ready for grading. It was a nightmare and enough to send her into panic-sweats. At least in this class, there was nothing to do except enjoy playing with the creatures. Professor Hagrid was the best Professor during testing times. He was very relaxed in his style of teaching.

"How many did you get?" One of the other girls whispered to another. They were handling something red and pink in their hands. Valentines.

"Just a few. He even sent a flower, do you see?" The other said, showing a rose from the inside of her bag. Then, they made yelps when the unicorn moved forward to eat the flower, which she did, taking quite a few petals with her and chewing on it happily.

Maisie almost rolled her eyes, rubbing the top of the unicorn's head. Valentines Day. Who needed it?

* * *

 **hooray, an update!**

 **i do have the next few chapters sort of set up, so there is some exciting stuff. Nothing too thrilling, but there is a lapse from our dear Barty Crouch Junior.**

 **Read, Review and Follow/Favorite!**


	17. Chapter 17

**Sad, I only got 1 reviewer last chapter (Lady Ravanna, you get an A+), which is really disconcerting, and the reason why this chapter is later than it was meant to be!**

 **I know why I only got 1 review, not a lot happened. I DID have a thing planned for last chapter that didn't end up happening and I'm not really sure about if it should ever happen, because it is a step that will make the Fleur-Maisie relationship a LOT more intimate and serious, which I'm not sure is the best thing right now (which means i'm more likely to push it away towards the end of the year, right before the final task and the 100% introduction of Voldemort as a physical person, which will bring a whole new sense of fear, especially towards Fleur) so I'm just re-arranging my notes and everything about these things and it's all jumbled and ahh.**

 **also, you guys, a small announcement, since we're going towards 100 reviews.**

 **My 100th reviewer will get to know one major plot spoiler for this story!**

 **woo oo oo oo exciting!**

 **Also a bit of a warning of horror, kind of not gore, but scary. Conjuring 2 scary, but scary enough, yknow? Awesome**

* * *

 **March, 1995**

 **Hogsmeade Village, Scotland**

 _ **Ice Puddles**_

* * *

When cold February faded into March, the snow started to melt.

It was still brisk and windy, but it was raining far more often than it snowed, which caused slick ice to appear on every cobblestone in the Castle. Even now, riding in the carriages down to the village with Fleur, it was raining outside. Lightly, but still, rain was rain. Fleur had a thick cloak around her shoulders and had repeatedly put heating charms on it, so many that Maisie was surprised that she wasn't baking inside of it. Viktor, who sat next to her, was observing both of them silently, the occasional upturn of his lips appearing at the sight of Fleur being so stiff and cold.

The carriage stopped, and Viktor left it first and assisted her and Fleur out of it with one hand. Fleur looked especially sour when she had to take the other Champion's hand, like she was hoping for him to ignore the two of them and give her a reason to dislike him. Unfortunately, he was quite the gentleman (proving that Durmstrang at least taught upon the ideals of Purebloods, on how one should act even in a school-setting), giving Fleur little to complain about. That didn't stop her from upturning her nose at the puddles around her, though, which made Maisie have to repress her amused smile, since her friend clearly wouldn't appreciate her laughing at her European snobbery.

Viktor had started to linger around herself and Fleur more and more since the discussion about Granger. Nothing truly noticeable (especially not around her), but occasionally he would walk her to Potions, since his Headmaster was so often roaming around the Dungeons where Snape's classroom was kept. It wasn't unusual to see the Durmstrang students on that floor, so Maisie assumed that he had been there anyway.

The sable-haired witch adjusted her forest-colored turtleneck and lifted up her cloak so it would not get dragged through the melting snow and ice (there was a very large push broom wandering throughout the village, pushing away all of the snow to create paths, but it wasn't doing that great of a job with the ice all over the ground.) Feeling a bit sympathetic to Fleur, Maisie rubbed her lips together and began to lead the way to the Three Broomsticks. It wouldn't be up to her standards, but at least it was toasty and warm inside.

Ah, true to her nature, Fleur sniffed her nose and looked around with a bit of distaste at the bar and all of the people who were inside, drinking large mugs of warm butterbeer, hot chocolate and mulled meads.

With a small smile, Maisie allowed her friend to hook her arm around hers and lead the three of them to whatever table that Fleur wanted. Viktor followed mostly behind them, gazing around at the warm surroundings with a much more pleasant expression, admiring the room and tables.

Fleur chose a booth in the corner, next to the window. Outside, it had stopped raining briefly.

"You look like you just stepped in boar dung." Maisie said to the blonde, her tone light and unoffending.

The french witch scoffed and loosened her fierce grip on her cloak. "I might as well 'ave. Eez eet always like zis?" Fleur gestured with one hand around her head, at the warm, more homey look of the Three Broomsticks. Though it was a lot dirtier than it usually was, that was due to the dirt and mud that had been tracked in by the many shoes and boots that had come trampling in from the outside. Also, due from the rain, everything did seem to have that much more of a potent smell, like tobacco, cloves and alcohol. It wasn't terribly pleasant, but tolerable. Fleur, apparently, didn't find it even remotely so, however.

"No." Maisie answered her plainly, squinting her eyes when the alcohol musk burned at them. "We're just lucky today, isn't that so grand? Maybe Rosemerta will even get the severed heads to sing us a tune like they do at Christmas-time. They're so jolly and wasted those days."

Fleur rolled her dark blue eyes at the Gryffindor's sarcasm and glared at Krum most irritably when he chuckled. "'Ush your unneeded reeffing, I am too cold to deel with deciphering English right now." She drawled, reaching up and adjusting her hat and her long silvery-blonde braid a bit vainly.

"Vhat are you doing right now zhen?" Krum inquired deeply, looking extremely amused.

Maisie covered her mouth with her hand to muffle her giggle.

Fleur sent a very sour look towards Viktor that suggested that she was greatly regretting inviting him along with them to Hogsmeade. That look only amused Viktor that much more, because his eyes gleamed under the light now, and he leaned back into the padded booth with a male sort of 'Huh-ha, I win' to him.

"'Ello you lot. What'll it be?" Rosemerta, the very pretty, very breast-y owner of the Three Broomsticks asked them. Naturally, she was ignored, instead she focused on the two notable Champions in front of her.

Fleur asked for a glass of wine while Krum requested two bottles of whatever she recommended. It was good thing he asked for two, because Rosemerta turned away the minute the two of them had finished giving their orders without even a second thought towards Maisie herself.

/~/

Maisie felt that she definitely had to excuse herself.

Mid-sip on a bottle of butterbeer, she had spied something. Or more specifically, someone. It was Roger Davies, the Ravenclaw Quidditch Captain that Fleur had taken to the Yule Ball.

The tall, handsome boy (though not as handsome as Cedric Diggory, the Hufflepuff Captain) was standing in the middle of the rain, next to one of the smaller shops. There was no mistaking the fact that he was staring at them. In fact, the boy barely shifted back and forth on his feet to get the blood rushing. So focused on watching Davies right back, she didn't even notice the increase of heat on the back of her neck. It was almost supposed to be an intense sensation that felt like it most certainly was not coming from inside of the room she was in, but from far away from there, and was why it was so diluted.

Davies, inside of her minds eye, began bend his back until his hands reached the icy ground and his back began to strain and crack. His mouth opened far too widely in a silent sort of terror. Maisie blinked her light green eyes and the sight was gone, and now Davies was once again standing there in the rain, looking away when someone stepped in a large puddle near him, splashing his pants.

So swiftly, she turned away from the window and back towards Krum and Fleur, who were still invested in their drinks.

"I'm assuming you don't want to leave the warmth of the tavern yet?" She asked the blonde, who nodded with pursed lips. "Well, I've got a bit of a sugar craving, so I was going to hurry over to Honeydukes and then come back. Do you want anything?"

"I could escort you." Krum grunted.

The sable-haired witch smiled and shook her head. "No no, I'll be fine. Besides, princesse here needs constant attending." She teased her, giving her arm a gentle poke, all in good humor. Fleur bumped her elbow against hers.

"Very vell." Krum turned down his head and stood so Maisie could slide out and re-adjust her clothing and hair.

Fleur gave her a few silver sickles to purchase something fruity and some chocolates. Krum only returned to sitting when Maisie turned and left the warm, friendly tavern, heading out into the cold.

Davies was still there, across the street, watching the window in the rain. He didn't even notice when the sable-haired witch moved and approached him, her hands behind her back, fiddling with her wand as she walked determinedly.

She hit his kneecaps with a hearty stinging jinx. In all the rain and the bustle of movement around them, clearly no one even thought that she was responsible. Maisie just hurried away from the sound of Davies' cries of surprise and pain, her boot splashing in the puddles. She had to be careful to avoid any ice. Slipping and getting trod over by a bunch of the villagers truly didn't appeal to her, so she slowed her run to a small scamper over to Honeydukes, which wasn't nearly as packed as it usually was.

Honeydukes was a nice candy store that had been there since before anyone she knew could remember. They were a great candy chain, and lots of different sweets were sold there, especially weird things that they made right in the store like Singing Strawberry jellies (they made you belt out a very esq. tune) and white fudge octopi.

Maisie, holding her pouch of money, along with Fleur's silver sickles, walked in past the two Weasley twins who were by the door, looking at the rows of disposable candy machines―shrinking her shoulders down so they wouldn't see her, they were far too intimidating to talk to, especially since the First Task, when they had double teamed her and likely enjoyed the way she shrank away from them with fear―and hurried her way to the wall of chocolates. There was a lot of different kinds of chocolate to choose from. Chocolate frogs (whose packages were rustling around in the basket they where in, the purple cardboard also letting out the occasional 'ribbit'), Fizzing Whizzbees, chocolate flavored candy floss and all sorts of flavored fudges.

The witch picked out a few that she thought Fleur would like the best, a package of chocolate cauldrons and a large box of strawberry liqueur-filled chocolate birds. The cauldrons were a classic, filled with gooey-fudge richness. They were sort of processed and the cake was sticky from the fudge on the inside, but maybe Fleur would still like them despite that? Maisie pursed her lips, considering them before tucking them underneath her arm. If she didn't like them, then just incase, she'd pick something else out.

A paper and cellophane cage filled with fluttering, brightly colored fruit moths joined the cauldrons and birds under her arm.

For herself, she just picked up some Sugar Quills and a clear plastic bag of toffees. They were old types of candy, but Maisie liked them just the same. They were good to store in her bag and her pockets.

"Bugger off, you're on my shoe!" One of the Weasley's cried, shoving his brother. It was one of the twins, she didn't know which. But then, the sound of Longbottom, a bumbling boy who had gotten very tall that year, just like she had, croaked out an apology.

"S-sorry! There was ice outside, and Harry bumped into me!" He stuttered out his excuses. Maisie peaked from between the shelves and saw that he was a bright red color. She frowned and was reminded that she might end up married (or at least engaged) to a man like Longbottom. Well, like Longbottom or like Draco. She doubted there were anymore respectable Purebloods that weren't idiotic or arseholes. When she got home for Easter, she'd know for sure her choices, if she had more than one man to choose from that is.

"At least you're an Heir." She mumbled to herself, frowning as she watched the tall boy pick up a large nougat-filled Easter Egg. "I'd live comfortably with you." Probably not happily. But at least she wouldn't get married off to one of the many Weasley boys. They didn't do arranged marriages anymore.

"Oh? Where was Harry ol' boy headed off to?"

"More importantly, who was with him?"

She tried to focus on the package of Bertie Botts in her hand. Spying wasn't polite.

"Oh, just Hermione and Ron. They were leaving the village. Probably going to the Shrieking Shack or something."

"Oh who cares about Ron?" The twins echoed each other, shrugging their shoulders without care.

Maisie carried her treats to the check out counter and paid for them. She took her knuts back as change and stuffed them in her money pouch. The cashier girl put her things in a brightly colored plastic bag and handed them to her. It was still only early afternoon, but the girl looked too tired to wish her farewell, so she just took her bag and prepared herself to go back into the wind and the rain. Her cloak was hit by rain instantly and she sputtered as rain pelted her face as well.

A few minutes were spent stumbling into the wall of Gladrags, hurriedly rubbing away the water that had fallen into her eyes, the sting paining her.

"Hey, missy, are you alright? Can you stand?" A young man's voice came to her ears.

Her face turned hot and she removed her hands from her eyes, blinking rapidly now that she was out of the rain. A rough feeling hand touched her arm gently. "Yes, of course! I'm alright, I promise, I just got water in my eyes." She opened her eyes and tried to look around for a face to match the man's voice that she heard. Instead of finding that someone, she saw Professor Moody. He was grasping at her arm with his hand that looked like it had pieces missing from it. When she looked around, there was nobody else who could have said that to her. Only Moody.

"Professor?" She said dumbly, because it wasn't truly a question.

Professor Moody was staring at her in a way that wasn't like himself at all. In fact, if she had to describe it at all, it looked like the expression of a teenage boy rather than a old, experienced Auror.

The silence felt like it lasted centuries.

"Sir?"

His false, blue eye suddenly began to move again in it's socket, roaming over her so quickly that it was almost like a Golden Snitch, the blue iris darted around so fast. The sound was grating and horrible to listen to. His expression hardened, his body hunched over and he tugged her over to himself so he could look closer at her eyes. "Your eyes hurt, Martin-Moors?" He rumbled questionably, his voice dark and much more mature than the voice that she had heard earlier. But, someone had to have said that, right? She hadn't imagined it? Or had someone said that and then ran off when Moody showed up? But, wouldn't she have heard him, with his fake leg and huge walking stick?

"No." Maisie said softly, narrowing her brows together in confusion. "No, they don't anymore. Are they red?" She asked, though she didn't really need an answer to it.

Moody frowned and shook his head before releasing her arm. "No. Try not to let the rain in your eyes, Martin-Moors. You'll never know who might take advantage of your weakness." He warned her gravely. "Keep constant vigilance, girl! And meet me before Easter. You need another lesson if you get bested by weather patterns. My office hours are the same. Make sure not to be followed." With that, Professor Moody gave her a final look over with both of his eyes before walking away, with whatever was in his pockets jingling like metal. Not like coins. More like a canister or something.

 _What does he mean by followed,_ she wondered before letting her arms hang low, the plastic Honeydukes bag clinging to her wrist.

Fleur would be wondering where she'd be, Maisie figured, grasping the back of her hat and adjusting it on her head before wandering back to the Three Broomsticks. In a fuddle of confusion and a bad sinking feeling of dread that churned itself up in her stomach, she moved into the bar, dragging in more dirt and water with her boots. Her footsteps caused imprints in the coat of mud that made itself at the entrance door.

"Good afternoon, sweetie." Rosemerta greeted her, her breasts bouncing within the bodice of her dress.

Sometimes, Maisie thought she wore things like that to get better tips. Because it certainly worked for her. There was only a part chance that they were even real too.

" _May-sea_?" Fleur's sweet, french accented voice greeted her. She sounded concerned, and she probably should be. The expression on Maisie's face was probably something of dumbfounded-ness. Or anything along those lines. She certainly felt it. The heat surrounding her was becoming somehow sticky and suffocating and Maisie tore off her hat where her hair had begun to stick to her flushed face.

Fleur got out of the booth, and so did Krum.

She dropped the bag from Honeydukes and darted towards the loo, tearing off her cloak when the heat and disgusting feeling of bile began to travel up her throat.

* * *

 **So, things have happened.**

 **And now we know what happens to Maisie when Tom gets angry. it's not at all like what happens to harry, which is his scar burns when he's pissed. maisie gets ill when he gets pissed.**

 **Which is really horrible, but at least all of those feelings that tom has will be easier controlled when he 'comes back' and gets a body of his own! Tom, control your anger, get a therapist! You're making Maisie sick! :O**

 **Remember to Review after you read!**


	18. Chapter 18

**Thank you Lizzy B, 2 Guests, Ermata Coos, the-quiet-girl, maighdean mhara and Lady Ravanna for reviewing!**

 **I actually didn't plan this chapter. But I had to do something in between, not to drag out the story longer, but to just get THAT much more Barty Crouch Jr. in here. Especially since he's so freaking stressed out right now pretending to be Mad-Eye Moody. poor bastard! then again, you deserve this, you tortured neville's parents, you're a bad person, but still. 'Poor guy'.**

 **after this, there will be 2-3 chapters at the most about Easter holidays at the Moors household. and you get to meet maisie's silly father and face to face with Aunt Venus, and get to find who has inquired after Maisie's hand in marriage. and you will NEVER guess who has! mreh mreh mreh, evil hands, fluffy cat on my lap**

 **also, i have completely planned out the final task! Ha! violence. kidnapping.**

* * *

 **April, 1995**

 **Hogwarts, Scotland**

 ** _The Dueling Lessons_**

* * *

Maisie had awoken that morning in a startled sort of jump, with Eugenia snuggled into her long hair and her little claws scratching the side of her face as she breathed deeply in her little rat sleep.

With all of the grand fragility of a swan on a handful of hallucinogens, the young witch picked her familiar up and put her down on top of the blanket rather than her hair. She winced when her claws pulled her hair, causing some stinging on the side of her scalp. Eugenia only woke up with a bright 'squeak!' when she put her down, but it was no use trying to get her back to sleep. Instead, she began to scutter around the bed, sniffing around the room before climbing up her Mistress to slump up against the side of her neck like some kind of hot water bottle. The tiny pinpricks of her claws made Maisie wince and wish that whatever had woken her up had at least waited a few more minutes.

In her sleepy sort of daze, she raised her hand up and rubbed at her eyes as she tiredly tried to remember what she had been dreaming about. She thought that it was maybe... Nope.

Her hand slumped down from her face to the top of her chest like there were weights attached to it. As usual, she couldn't remember a thing.

"Off you get, you foul beast." She mumbled to Eugenia, who ignored her and instead continued to keep to the crook of her neck. "I mustn't allow you to see me going to the loo. We're not that close yet." Maisie continued to her in a sort of drawl as she sat up in bed.

Eugenia nipped at her shoulder before jumping off and instead going off towards her cage, which sat up on top of her small, wooden wardrobe.

"Nice job." She yawned, her hand covering her mouth as her face scrunched up. Her mossy eyes began to look around at her dormitory. The only clock around was one on Granger's side of the room, blocked off from her vision. But considering that there wasn't anyone else awake (Parvati and Lavender were both asleep inside of Parvati's bed, with Lavender's tousled blonde hair being unmistakable, even when cuddled up underneath her friend's prettily embroidered blanket. The lump in Granger's bed was moving up and down steadily. Also asleep.) it was best to assume that it was FAR before breakfast time. Nature calling, she tossed off her sheets and blankets, stumbling out of bed. Her bare feet hit the wooden floor in light little 'pit pats' as she walked around the large heater in the middle of the room and entered into the bathroom.

The candlelights burst into flame the second she walked inside, lighting up the cold bathroom.

The time that showed on the delicate watch on the sink said that it was about to be 6 o'clock, which meant the others would be waking up soon as well. Figuring the fight to the shower and sink was something better left to the others, Maisie did her business and pulled her nightgown off over her head, her knickers and underwire bra followed and were discarded into the empty laundry basket. It would be full by the end of the breakfast.

With a tap of her wand, the knobs twisted themselves and warm water began to spray out of the shiny metal shower head, and the tall Gryffindor girl got herself ready for the school day.

At breakfast, just an hour later, she was eating her morning oatmeal with blueberries and looking over her Transfiguration homework, which was due that Thursday. Maisie frowned at the homework, knowing for sure that her lackluster transfiguration skills (and for that matter, knowledge) weren't enough for her to get anything higher than an 'D' on this assignment. If anyone else was teaching, maybe they would have felt bad enough for her to give her an 'A', because she was so dreadfully sad the harder she tried at the blasted subject. Fretfully, she scribbled at the parchment, editing a few words, as if that would make a difference towards her grade.

Across from her, a few girls who were apart of Fleur's tight group of friends, watched her with amusement as she continued to struggle with her work. Their accents were even thicker than Fleur's, so even if they did try to help her, she wouldn't understand them.

 _I really must learn French_ , she thought with a frown on her face, giving up and dropping her quill down. Maisie picked up her inkwell and latched it shut, stashing it away in her bag.

The mail came through the window at the Great Hall, and a medium sized snowy white owl flew over and landed in front of her.

It was a very beautiful owl, with large yellow eyes and clean, white feathers. The owl had a small, white envelope in it's pointed black beak, and it had her name written on the front of it in a script that she didn't recognize. Befuddled, she took the envelope from the owl and picked a few blueberries from her oatmeal, allowing it to gobble them down. After it was finished with them though, the owl didn't take flight again. Expecting a reply immediately from her?

With a small, partly amused scoff, Maisie opened the letter and picked out the parchment inside.

Then she snorted loudly before clamping her ink-covered hand over her mouth to stop her loud laugh from escaping. On the parchment was written;

 _Dear Maisie,_

 _Salutations._

 _From, Harry J. Potter_

And he'd drawn a small rabbit whose tail was very oddly proportioned on the rabbit itself. It moved it's head back and forth, as if sniffing the air before going back to sitting still.

Finding this letter very unusual, yet charming, Maisie looked up, over towards the table where she usually sat. But he wasn't looking over at her at all, instead, he was freaking out over Granger, whose hands looked like they were covered in... Undiluted bubotuber pus? Dozens of owls were all swarming around Granger, all of them with thick, darkly colored letters in their beaks or claws. She looked seconds from crying, her face all red and her big and bushy hair stuck to the bubotuber pus and would then latch onto her neck and her body, which caused her skin to puff up and ooze disgustingly. Soon after, she hurried out of the Great Hall, cradling her disgusting hands as she likely ran off to the Hospital Wing.

Later, in Herbology, Granger was still missing. Maisie was thankful for this, because the sound of Granger's voice answering every bloody question that Sprout gave her was usually a given in class. Now, instead, everyone else got a chance to answer these questions, and even Maisie answered one about the Bubotuber plant, which Longbottom added onto in a very confident and enthusiastic tone. Gryffindor was given ten points for the information, which made her swell with the tiniest bit of pride, despite knowing that the points were actually for Professor Sprout's favorite student and not herself.

On the trek down to Care of Magical Creatures, to Professor Hagrid's hut near the edge of the Forbidden Forest, there was still no sign of Granger.

"You didn't send me a reply."

Startled, Maisie jumped and clutched at her red and gold striped tie, turning quickly to see who touched her arm. It was Potter, who had for now stopped walking with Weasley to approach her.

He looked nice, friendly. He was smiling at her, his dark hair so ridiculously tousled that it almost puffed out. He was boyish and casual.

She blushed a pink color and she turned away, a small half-smile playing on her lips. "No, I didn't. Thought you wouldn't need another love scandal." Maisie told him lightly, in a teasing tone, no heat behind her words.

It worked, Potter scoffed and raised his hand up, pushing it through his mop of messy black hair. "You read along with everybody else, huh?" He sounded a little bitter, upset.

Maisie shook her head, walking around a large stump, separating the two of them from walking side by side. "I didn't have to. It's been the only thing that anyone can talk about for awhile. Kind of hard to miss. I don't believe any of it, though." She said to him, putting her hand out as if to touch his arm assuredly before letting her eyes wander over to Pansy Parkinson and her gang of girls. They were walking behind the Slytherin boys. Cousin Draco included, who was smirking in that mean way he so often did, talking to Zabini who walked with him. He was the only one that Draco allowed to be on the same level with him in public. "Anyone who believes what Rita Skeeter writes is... Probably either delusional or―I dunno." She shook her head and shrugged her shoulders. "Bonkers?"

"Bonkers?" He repeated, stuffing his hands into his robes, once again grinning.

"Yep."

"Guess most of the school's bonkers then."

At Hagrid's hut, there were a number of crates, similar to the kind that they had when they were looking after the Blast-Ended Skrewts. But rather than those ugly, hard-shelled things, there were black, furry creatures inside.

They were Nifflers, like the mammal version of a magpie. They loved shiny, sparkling items, and often hoarded things like that. One of them tried to bite Parkinson's watch off of her wrist. They all had one Niffler, and they raced them to pick out the most golden coins that Professor Hagrid had buried in the large dirt-lot. Granger returned soon with bandages over her hands, but Maisie didn't pay attention to her arrival, instead she just focused more on her Niffler, who spit more coins of gold in her hands.

At lunch, she ate a serving of scalloped potatoes and a sandwich before writing a return letter to Potter. She stuck to the one word letter as he did, and sent it off with only a 'Howdy', using a school tawny owl.

Fleur went with her to the Owlery, claiming that she needed to send a letter to her sister.

"'Ow long will vou be gone, again?" She asked sharply. The blonde witch had been quite unwilling for her to leave the Castle, even just for a short time for Easter. Thankfully, she'd mostly gotten over her moodiness. Mostly.

"A week. Not even a week, just five days." Maisie told her on the stairs up to the top of the Owlery.

"Hmm." Fleur hummed, clearly displeased, but knowing better than to say anything about it.

The sable-haired witch sighed and held her friend's hand, squeezing it gently as they got to the top where the many owls were sitting in nooks all around them. It didn't exactly look pretty up there. There was also a familiar March chill in the air, though certainly not as horrid as it was in the snow, when ice would attach itself to the stone steps, threatening everyone who dared walk on them. Maisie stopped herself in front of the owls and turned to look at Fleur, who was pointedly not looking at her, instead around at their surroundings with an annoyed look on her beautiful face. Her deliberate-ness and foul feelings were starting to annoy her. Even more so when she refused to talk about why she was so bothered by it.

Maisie let out a heavy breath, which turned visible in the chilly air.

She picked out an owl and gave it her letter. It left out the window. She was going to let it go when Fleur made the mistake of making a noise of distaste when she attached her scroll-note to a barn owl's leg.

So Maisie stomped her foot and whipped herself around. "Okay, stop this! What in the world is going on with you!?" She snapped. The owls around them all jumped, ruffling their feathers and screeching at the sudden noise that she made. Fleur definitely looked surprised and took a step back from her, her hands releasing the barn owl, who took off out the window.

Then, she reverted back into her typical French snobbery. She turned away and looked down at her perfect fingernails. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Maisie threw down her bag onto the stone floor. "You're lying! What the hell are you not telling me!?" She exclaimed, throwing her hands out in front of her before clutching the sides of her head, at her hair and her woolen hat. "You've been getting more and more pissed at me for no reason for the last couple weeks! What have I done!? Just tell me what it is already, I'm clearly not smart enough to figure it out!" She shouted at her, stomping her foot down again like a petulant, crying child whose parent took away her sweets.

Fleur narrowed her eyes and looked over at her like she was exasperated. Then, she said, "It's nothing."

"No, it's not nothing, Fleur!" Maisie said, feeling herself getting upset, the tell-tale signs of tears showing. She hated so much that she had gone so quickly from angry to weepy. "Is it the Tournament? The Final Task? It can't just be about me going home for Easter." She said, her voice no longer a shout or a yell, but instead quieting down to a whisper. "That's too little for you, Fleur."

The french witch shook her head shortly, quickly, avoiding her eyes and instead staring up at the ceiling. She pursed her lips, like she was about to say something. Anything, anything at all. But too many seconds went by without any noise from her.

"Fleur." Maisie prompted, approaching her, concern drenched in her voice.

She changed her gaze, instead she stared down at the floor. "It's not... _just_ the Tournament." She finally said, her voice thicker now, her English less accented. "I know I'm not going to win. I 'ave... made my peace with it." Fleur said, putting her hand out expressively. "But―zhat is not the only thing. May-sea―you leaving for Easter―It 'as reminded me that we, us-" She gestured between them, looking miserable, her beautiful almond eyes looking glassy. "We are not permanent! At ze end of ze year I won't see you everyday." Fleur murmured, taking a step closer to her.

"It breaks my 'eart. Just ze thought of not seeing you." She said to her, voice soft and full of so much emotion that it moved Maisie just to hear it.

She licked her lips and reached out, taking Fleur's hand in hers, entangling their fingers. "We'll write."

Fleur smiled and shook her head, her hair shaking with the movement. Her eyes were sad. "It is not the same. You know zhat." She tightened her hold on Maisie's hand.

"We'll figure something out. You could come visit me, or I could go and visit France. It―well, it sounds like a really horridly scary place if it's filled with pretty and terrifying witches like you. But... I'll go if _you're_ going to be there." She stressed, trying to bring a happier smile back to Fleur's gorgeous face. It worked, she looked more amused now at her shot at her home country.

"You Englishmen. Always so jealous of us French." Fleur said coyly, shrugging only one shoulder. "I think all of you ought to just admit zhat you reelly just want to be just like us. Romantique. Passionné." She switched to the french language very quickly, and the words flowed from her so naturally that there was no doubting her proficiency.

"Oh yes. Passionate about riding brooms completely plastered, perhaps." Maisie said teasingly, moving their entangled hands side to side playfully.

Fleur grew quieter for a moment, gazing at their hands. "Will you visit often? In ze summer?"

She nodded, looking over Fleur's face. "As much as you want. You should come see me too. My Aunt just got a place in Wales. Right on the beach." She told her with a smile, the words meant to tantalize the other witches' love for sand and the sea.

"Your family would let me stay?"

"Of course they would." She affirmed happily. Maisie had never thought that she'd lose her friend after this year. She never even considered it, because it felt so much like this year would never end. And she wanted Fleur to keep being her friend. Her one and true friend, the person who _saw_ her. Feeling her eyes get warm, like she was about to cry, she wrapped her arms around Fleur's shoulders. They were the same height now, so she couldn't bury her face into her neck, but she did hide in her long, rose-smelling hair. She never looked nice when she cried, it was better to hide her sappy face from her beautiful friend. She didn't need to see her bright pink face.

She felt Fleur's arms around her waist and her hands touching her hip and her back.

"Sorry to break up this touching moment, ladies." Moody's harsh, grunting voice said from the stone doorway. "But I need Miss Martin-Moors in my office. Now." He almost growled, glaring at Fleur heatedly, like she had done something terrible to him personally. The blonde moved back, affronted and offended, looking cautiously back at him and purposefully not letting go of her friend, almost daring the man somehow.

"We had an appointment." Moody reminded Maisie, who looked nervously between him and Fleur.

"Right. I know. Sir. But―uh, I-I thought that it just had to be before Easter? Sir." She asked, shifting out of Fleur's arms when Moody's almost hateful gaze towards her friend made her increasingly uncomfortable.

"It was. But now I have found myself busy for the next week except for today." He was considerably nicer to her than he was to Fleur, and that puzzled her. Especially when his false blue eye was extremely focused on the french witch, and it didn't even move except to follow the small shifting movements that the girl made. " _Now._ I'll write you a note to give to Trelawney to excuse you." Moody told her as his large, stumpy fingers moved around his large walking stick, like he wanted to do something.

Maisie's mouth moved up and down in a gap as she looked between her Professor and Fleur. "W-well... Alright. Okay, sure. Um, Fleur? I'll see you at dinner?" She asked hesitantly, because Fleur looked so angry now, her eyes had lightened considerably with her own fury. She shifted her jaw, forward and back, like she was grinding her teeth. Then, the blonde nodded and touched her shoulder.

"Oui. At dinner. See you then." She said stiffly.

Moody moved before she did, turning his large square body and walking heavily down the stone steps with loud 'CLUNK clunk's. Maisie felt like she had no choice but to look sadly back at her friend before trailing out after him.

/~/

"How close are you two?" He asked her when they were half-way towards his office.

"What?" Maisie said, holding onto the strap of her bag.

He turned part of his body to face her. "You and the part-Veela. How close are you. Are you two together?" Moody's question made her stop and blush brightly when she considered his questions.

"N-no. W-we're just friends. Close friends. I... I don't think that I―I mean, it wouldn't matter even if..." She stopped, taking a deep breath as her emotions ran rapidly inside of her. Even her magic began to move, making her fingertips and her pursed lips tingle. "We're not together." Maisie said finally, feeling as if a large toad had suddenly taken up residence inside of her throat and felt like he most definitely had to start singing Opera. She couldn't have embarrassed herself further than if she had drank an entire flute of Babbling Beverage.

Moody looked almost pleased at that news. "She not take your fancy?" He asked, opening up his classroom door.

Maisie frowned. "It's not like that." She told him, furrowing her eyebrows.

"Mmm." He grunted. And that was the end of his questioning until finally they were inside of his office in the adjoining room to the classroom up the short staircase where in the years previous, three other professors had stayed. Professor Lupin had kept a series of interesting oddities. Professor Lockhart, she'd had a terrible crush on, and he'd kept his own portraits all over the walls. Professor Quirrel, he was almost as strange as Professor Moody. He had kept the whole room dark and shadowed, with a few paintings on the walls and many, many books about vampires and other such things like drying herbs. He always stared, at everyone, really, with stuttering words and shaking hands. It was very rare that she had ever spoken to him personally, except when she answered a few questions about the topics they were discussing in class.

 _'V-v-v-very good M-m-miss M-martin-Moors. V-very excellent wording. T-t-twenty points to G-gryffindor.'_ She'd been so pleased at getting points during her first day of class, that she hadn't even been that disheartened when the girls she sat near in the library hadn't wanted her to study with them.

"Your wand. Prepare yourself." Moody said to her, taking out his own wand and pointing it at her.

She lost her wand the second she took it out, and he only told her to think quicker on her feet and to try again.

* * *

 **look at all these things that are happening**

 **an adorable harry-maisie moment, a fleur-maisie fight, barty getting suspicious about Fleur, and then a blast from the past about Professor Quirrel!**

 **fun things**

 **great times**

 **Read, review, follow/Favorite!**

 **Remember, my 100th reviewer will get a HUGE spoiler for this story~**


	19. Chapter 19

**Thank you maighdean mhara, MissVolturiKingsfan, Lady Ravanna, Lizzy B, one Guest and AvalontheLadyKiller (x6) for reviewing!**

 **here's our first Easter chapter! For this chapter, I wrote the location to just be the 'United Kingdom', because essentially, you leave in England, and then are in Scotland, going through the borders of countries and everything, so I thought that it was better to keep it to the UK rather than picking one country (like I will later, when Maisie's in Wales with Venus next chapter)**

 **okay, I think that's the only note I have!**

* * *

 **April 16th, 1995**

 **Kings Cross Station,** **United Kingdom**

 ** _Family Ties_**

* * *

It was Saturday, the beginning of Easter break.

She, along with some few other students, were leaving on the Hogwarts Express back to London. Unfortunately, this number of students were mostly from Slytherin, whose parents hadn't got to see their children at Christmas because of the Yule Ball, and Maisie would have to deal with staying on the train with them. They'd be more rowdy, what with the train being more vacant than it was during Christmas holidays, and especially in September. Maisie only had to hope that Pansy Parkinson and most of her girl-gang were staying at Hogwarts. If they saw a non-Slytherin on the train, they'd most definitely take advantage of the lack of protection that bigger, stronger Gryffindor's offered even the littlest of red and gold students.

Fleur was back into her own silky, light blue robes now that the weather was starting to considerably warm up in Scotland. In fact, she was dressed completely to the nines, like she had when departing from the Beauxbatons carriage on Samhain. She even wore her silken, light blue gloves.

"This room—" She started.

"For the last time Fleur, _yes_ , I do actually sleep here." Maisie insisted for the third time that morning. She'd snuck Fleur in during breakfast when she was sure that nobody would be around to see her. It was better that way, and if anyone did happen to stumble down into the Common room, they'd probably think they were seeing things. No skin off of Maisie's back.

Fleur rolled her eyes and walked around the large, dark heater that sat in the middle of the room, her eyes hungrily looking around the place, observing every canopy bed and all of the items that happened to be left out. "That wasn't what I was going to ask." She said simply, a bit grumpily, as her dark blue eyes landed on Crookshanks, Granger's mangy half-cat, who sat on top of her neat bed possessively. He blinked his weepy looking eyes back at Fleur, who turned back to look at her friend when she dragged her trunk around from the front of her bed. It made a hard sound against the wooden floor of the dormitory.

"Then continue." The sable-haired girl said, picking up her shoes that were underneath her bed and packing them inside of her trunk. Her mother's photograph was picked up last and placed inside of her box of jewelry. She didn't linger any further on watching her Mother as she moved inside of the frame, the wind flowing through her beautiful blonde hair. The box her jewelry came in locked from the outside, and she put it underneath a few of her warmer sweaters.

"You stay here through all seven years?" Fleur asked, touching the heavy fabric of Parvati's bed curtains curiously.

Maisie shook her head 'no'. "We move up a level each year. Seventh years at the top, first at the bottom. We'll be in another room next year." She told her, pointing her wand above her head at the ceiling, where the fifth year Gryffindor girls slept. Fleur followed her gaze towards the ceiling, which was wooden, though made sturdy with stone.

"Hmm. We do not have this in Beauxbatons. Each year get's a level of ze apartments at home. No sorting or anyzhing." She told her, adjusting her hat on her head.

"You've told me, little miss private bathrooms." Maisie teased her, turning around to look at the expression on Fleur's face. And she didn't disappoint, she gave her a sour lemon look before pointing a gloved finger at the small bathroom that was attached to the dormitory.

"Yours?" She inquired cheekily with a pretty, open mouthed smirk and a sparkle in her eyes.

Maisie moved her hand up, gesturing to her in a way that said, ' _Have at it, Your Majesty.'_

/~/

The walk down from the cobblestone trail, through the wooden bridge (newly rebuilt) and into the Forest with Maisie's luggage floating along behind her while she held Eugenia's cage in her hands, was relatively uneventful. Fleur walked down with her in her silly high hells— _heels_. She meant high heels.

The forest smelt lovely from the rain last night, the smell of pine, moss and soil rose up from the dirt path they walked upon on the way to where Professor Flitwick, her small, half-goblin Charms Professor, was holding a scroll and quill, checking off the names of students who walked by him with their luggage and bags before getting inside of the carriages that would be wheeling them over to Hogsmeade where the Hogwarts Express was waiting to take them back to London. Maisie's steps were much lighter than Fleur's, as her heels stuck through the dirt occasionally where the soil was softer and she had to pull them out and look in distaste at the dirt now caked onto her pretty shoes.

"'Ush." Fleur told her in a light-hearted warning. Maisie shot her a bright, toothy smile before stopping in front of Professor Flitwick, who asked her for her name.

"Martin-Moors. Mairead." She said to him, watching as he immediately checked off her name from his scroll, without even asking 'who's that?'

"Alright, off you go. Oh, and Miss Martin-Moors?" He chirped after her when she started to leave once more.

"Yes, sir?" She inquired, freezing in her half-step, surprised that he called after her.

He then gave her a partially amused, partially stern look, which was pretty funny to see from her Professor, as he wasn't truly that disciplinary. "Do try and work more on your Charms work over break. Your work has definitely been getting better, but I'd really love to give you an 'O' again." He said that in a friendly way, not meant to embarrass her. But still, Maisie flushed a pink color and nodded sheepishly. "Yes sir. I'll do some review on the train." She said with a part smile before Fleur hooked her arm with her and lead her away again.

"Do you need 'elp with Charms?" Fleur asked her, though she continued to look straight ahead to watch out for more soft places in the dirt.

Maisie waved her hand. "No. I'm usually pretty good at Charms. Not, well, of course not perfect, I'm no expert, obviously... But I'm fine, _well_ even." She told her as she opened up the carriage door and then climbed up inside, her luggage floating up above her on top of the darkly colored carriage. It even strapped itself in, around the metal bars that were around the top in a frame-like manner. Fleur got inside with her, much more gracefully than she did, and sat down across from her, shutting the small carriage door behind herself.

"Are you sure?" She said sure more like 'shore'.

"Yes, I am, absolutely. Now stop this topic. I know you want to talk to me about something." Maisie said, smiling at the sight of the look on Fleur's face that proved that she was right and the blonde _was_ trying to buy herself some time for something. The only question was what was it? Fleur rose her gloved hand up and wiped lightly at her blonde hair, as if pieces of it were sticking out and askew (they weren't, her hair was as pretty and immaculate as it always was) and looked at her with an almost nervous expression. Concerned, Maisie leaned forward, holding Eugenia's cage tightly in her grip so that her familiar wouldn't fall off and onto the floor of the carriage. She reached forward and touched her friend's knee, shaking it slightly since Fleur had gone silent.

"Fleur?"

She sighed and leaned back against the seat of the carriage. "It is not zhat important... It is just... My Maman and Papa. As well as my sister Gabrielle. Zhey are coming to see ze Final Task, you see. All of ze families of the Champions are being invited to see it, and..." Fleur seemed to compose herself, taking a deep breath before settling her hands on top of another in her lap. "And they wanted to meet you personally."

"You don't 'ave to, of co'rse, but erm..."

Maisie acted excited for her. She leaned forward and kissed her cheek in a very friendly way before they embraced.

They spoke in pleasant tones for the rest of the ride to Hogsmeade, and Fleur kissed her gently on the lips before she embarked onto the train with Eugenia. The kiss was soft and casual, but it still left a pleasant tingle fluttering through her body, even after it ended. Hopefully, her face wouldn't be still be pink by the time she found herself a compartment, because as she carried Eugenia through the familiar scarlet train, she actually full-out stumbled into the wall when she misstepped her foot in front of her.

Embarrassed, and glad that nobody had seen her stumble, Maisie hurried down the long row of compartments and chose one of them at random, knowing the unlikelihood of picking a compartment with anybody actually inside of it.

Boy, was she wrong.

"Oh Merlin!" Maisie screamed, slamming her back against the compartment door that she had just closed behind her. It hurt and stung, and her sensitive skin was likely to bruise after that, just from the force of herself slamming into the door. In her arms, Eugenia squeaked very loudly at her Mistress' scream, as well as the fact that she had almost dropped her on the floor!

"Good morning, Miss Martin-Moors." Professor Dumbledore greeted her. He looked as old and wrinkled as ever, all the while being dressed in a navy blue corduroy suit with bell bottom ankles and a matching dark hat upon his head. He had his hands resting across his stomach, which were in a pair of brown leather gloves, and on his feet were heeled brown shoes that looked like they were at least 12 years too old. She might have seen a similar pair of shoes in her own Father's closet once before, but he had never actually _worn_ them around the house. Dumbledore even had a pair of round, tinted brown glasses that rested on the bridge of his crooked nose. He looked horrific and Maisie felt her anger burn within her just at the sight of him, and the fact that he somehow managed to be in the **very** compartment she herself was going to choose.

Dumbledore gently nodded his head to her, like he were some sort of gracious man. "Oh don't mind me. I was just about to leave, but I found myself a bit entranced at how majestic the school looks from Hogsmeade. Often, I forget how it looks from afar. It's been a very long time since I've rode the train and I fancied myself a go before the end of the school year." He said in a very grandfatherly way that only served to bother her. Her previous fuzzy feelings from Fleur's kiss were gone like they were never there at all, and now she just felt like a bug that was backed up into a corner by a very large spider with snapping pinchers.

"It was kind of Miss Delacour to escort you to the station." He then said.

Maisie didn't even want him to speak Fleur's name. He didn't deserve to say her name, she was too wonderful, too lovely to have her name said by such a lying, phony old man. Even one as powerful as Albus Dumbledore.

"...Yes it was." She said softly. He hummed. To her, that hum was worse than him accusing her of what she was sure that he knew. About her feelings towards her beautiful best friend. And how **_dangerous_** her feelings were, especially to her family name. The name Moors might have been the most accepting family in the Wizarding World, enough so that they might allow her to marry a Muggleborn man. But not even the most accepting family would be accepting enough that they would even _allow_ a rumor about her to speculate through the families. It would be too much. It would ruin her, and her family. Her father would never be respected unless he disowned her at once . After what his sister Venus had done, forgiving her after what happened with her husband. Letting her to remain in the family all those years ago, and now, if rumors came out about his daughter too? It would give him a reputation.

"She's a very kind young woman." Dumbledore continued then, looking at her with those horrible eyes. She hated them. She _hated_ him. And she especially hated his look. Like he somehow knew her. Knew what she was feeling and how it felt.

He nodded to her again gently, a wrinkled smile on his face. "Well. I'm due back at the school." He said then, getting up and brushing off some lint from the front of his ridiculous suit. "Have a pleasant holiday, Miss Martin-Moors."

"Yessir."

Even when he was gone, she still felt just as bothered as when he was sitting right in front of her.

Maisie turned around and picked a different compartment.

/~/

The hours it took to get from Scotland to over the border into England were spent by doing just as Professor Flitwick wanted her to do. Practice her charms work.

It was good at distracting her from remembering the imploring, crystalline gaze of her Headmaster. She knew that he was no longer on the train, she saw him walk alongside Professor Hagrid through the window of her new compartment. He looked like a small, withered old man, especially when next to the bulky Hagrid. Her sour feelings faded after the first ten minutes moving. The sound of the train moving along on the tracks were soothing to listen to, and the train whistle rang out sharply every so often. Eugenia would perk her head up every time the whistle went off.

"Easy girl." Maisie soothed her, rubbing the top of her small head with the tip of her finger. She squeaked and went back to trying to jump onto the floating flowers that she was trying to vanish.

The rest of the ride to London was rainy. It had started raining maybe an hour after they left the Hogsmeade station and didn't stop even when the sun shined out at them late that afternoon.

The woman with the food cart came by and Maisie bought a pumpkin pasty for her to nibble on with Eugenia (with her little pet rat scarfing down most of the pastry. She didn't like sweets all too much anyway.)

The rain kept on even as the train slowed to a stop on Platform 9¾. The light pitter-pattering sound of it was nice however, to her ears. She liked the rain, the cloudy skies and the smell of the fallen raindrops. The only unfortunate thing about rain was that it exaggerated whatever scent someone already had on, like how a wet dog was far worse smelling than a dry one. Or why a cologne salesman made everyone want to be sick. And that wasn't just because he was a salesman. Also because his trench coat smelt like he got hexed by a nice-smelling group of aristocrats.

Maisie set Eugenia back into her cage so that she wouldn't be trampled by the many other purebloods who were attempting to get off of the train and peeked outside of her compartment. There weren't a lot of other students, but she did see a flash of white-blonde hair, confirming that Draco and a few others (Millicent Bulstrode was among them, she saw the brutish looking girl looking stone-faced as she stepped out the train door.) were on the train with her. It was lucky that they hadn't walked through the train looking for other students to bother. It was obvious that they all thought they were alone and had no need to torment anyone, and Maisie wasn't about to prove them wrong.

So she ducked her head down slightly and got off of the train, keeping Eugenia close to her hip.

The platform wasn't nearly as crowded as it was in September or June. There were maybe thirty or thirty-five people altogether, each of them holding folded umbrellas or their long waterproof coats over their arms. It was very warm inside the station, likely to combat the chill of early spring that was just outside Kings Cross' doors.

It was easy to spot her father in the small crowd of people.

Henry Moors was a tall gentleman with a lean stature, a hesitant and slumping gait and dark brown hair. His jaw was very strong, he had a straight nose and on it he wore a pair of gold-rimmed, rectangular spectacles. His straight hair was parted very obviously on the side in a haircut that was just about as old as he was. On top of his head, he wore a light tan fedora hat that had a dark band around it. His suit was also tan and his tie was a blue color. His shoes were a ridiculous black and white, and it was very clear to Maisie that he had been more than a little tired when he picked out his clothes that evening.

She couldn't help but smile at the sight of him. She had missed her father and his funny way of moving around.

"Hey love." He greeted her, his tenor voice displaying all of the care he had for her in his heart as he reached for her and pulled her gangly self into his chest in a tight hug. His thin arms and hands were always a lot stronger than they looked, though it always seemed as if he would break the moment he picked up even a newspaper.

"You've grown half a foot! Are you sure you haven't been replaced by someone else?" He said, his horrible humor making her snort all the same.

"I haven't, Dad." She said dryly, smelling the licorice and cinnamon smell that always seemed to follow her Father around wherever he went. All of his baking and dessert creations left a mark on him. He must have been in the kitchen before he left to pick her up.

"Alright, I'll take your word for it. Your things all here?" Henry asked, straightening himself up to his full stature, though his shoulders always went right back to hunching themselves down in a relaxed state.

Maisie nodded and showed him Eugenia in her cage and her large trunk.

Henry bobbed his head in his own way of nodding. "Alrighty-roo, then we're ready to be off." He stated simply. Then, he stiffened, almost statue-like as he stared over his young daughter's shoulder. Maisie couldn't help but reach for her wand as she turned to look behind her and see what had frightened her Father into such a state.

It was her Mother's cousin.

Lucius Malfoy was shorter than her Father by a few inches, but was considerably more intimidating. His shoulders were broader, his arms were bigger. His hair was as pale blonde as his son's hair, but longer. Very long, it draped over him to below his shoulders. He was dressed in expensive fabrics, with fine leather boots, a thick black cloak with silver fastenings and a finely feathered hat on top of his head. He looked the opposite of her Father. Lucius Malfoy, her Mother's favorite and closest cousin, was a very scary looking man. He was handsome, like all Malfoy's were, with aristocratic features and grey eyes that almost always were stormy and in a prideful glare. But to Maisie, the most frightening thing about him was that he was looking at her. Just at her, though he gave her Father a look that could have been mistaken as a gentle 'how-do-you-do?', but must have actually been an insult, because beside her, her Father bristled.

Draco stood next to him, holding his trunk and scowling down at her shoes. He looked sour, but was smart enough not to speak his feelings out loud.

"I apologize." Her Mother's cousin said then, his voice like silk. "-to keep you from the rest of your evening, but I simply had to come and say hello." He said to them, looking from her Father to herself. His eyes were softened but he was much too aristocratic and dressed in finery for either of the Moors to relax at his words.

"It's been a very long time since I've seen either of you." Lucius continued, jovially, like they were all old friends. He put his large, gloved hand on top of Draco's shoulder. "Draco here tells me that you-" He was addressing her now, pointedly, with a smile that would have stolen the hearts of any of the other girls in the room. "-have been quite the busy lady this school year."

"Fifteen is a very important year for young women." Henry replied, his voice tight.

Mr. Malfoy raised his blonde eyebrows, nodding once at Henry. "Indeed it is. Which is precisely why I would adore it so if you two would visit during the Summer Solstice this year. It has been far too long since we have had our dearest cousins over for dinner." The look on her Mother's cousin's face was meaningful. Maisie was dumbfounded, she didn't know what any of this meant. Malfoy's never did anything without a purpose, and it looked as if her Father knew exactly what this purpose was, and was looking quite tempted by it. Why was he looking so tempted by it? What did any of this mean? And why did Draco look so unhappy?

Maisie looked a bit forcefully at Draco, trying to get something, any information out of him. If he knew about this, would he tell her?

But Draco, her blasted second cousin, only kept his back straight and gave her nothing when their eyes met. He kept his stiff upper lip.

"Alright. But I'll have to bring my sister, you understand." Henry told Lucius, who only gave a stiff smirk in response.

"I had expected that. Of course she will be allowed to come. But please, if you would, express caution to her. Narcissa just recently redecorated the patio, it would be a pain for it to all be destroyed after all of her hard work." He told him, his eyes crinkling up in amusement. Henry only nodded, his hair coming out a bit messy from it, which he quickly swept back with his hand.

"Of course, of course." He said.

Lucius looked pleased, then turned back to Maisie, who was still staring intently at Draco. "Mairead." He prompted, startling her out of her intense glare at her cousin. He held his gloved hand out to her, palm up, expectantly.

Maisie breathed out of her nose and slid her hand on top of his, feeling her face warm. Lucius raised his cousin's daughter's hand up and kissed the back of it respectfully. Then, he shook her Father's hand and turned away with Draco, disappearing through the brick barrier into Muggle London.

Her Father stayed put, mumbling to himself bitterly for a few seconds before removing his hat, smoothing his hair back and taking her hand. "Alright, how do you feel about curry for dinner tonight, love?" He asked.

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 **omigosh, fleurmaisie kisses**

 **AND DUMBLEDORE, who i think just sometimes just rides the hogwarts express when he feels like it. he seems the type to just sit on the train and ride around thinking about his mistakes. maybe he'll conjure up a harp, and play it in a pale blue light, just like from the Great Mouse Detective.**

 **aaaaaand lucius malfoy communicating by eye contact to maisie's dad like 'i will get her a rich husband so fast, it'll be like the 1975 Quidditch World Cup snitch'**

 **and who else loves maisie's dad? He says things like 'alrighty-roo'. ;P**

 **(also WOW is my writing jumpy. this whole story is jumpy. or slow.)**

 **Read, Review, Follow/Favorite, you guys!**


	20. Chapter 20

**Thanks fowlgirl19, Lady Ravanna, Guest, Maddysae, Chocoholics Unite, AvalonTheLadyKiller, fowlgirl19, maighdean mhara and Madhatterofhearts for reviewing!**

 **Also you guys, I finally have 100+ favorites and 175+ followers for this story! :O**

 **and you fleurmaisie shippers seem so excited and happy now that there is some definite feelings happening on Maisie's part. ;)**

 **I'm sorry this chapter was a bit late, I've been planning for the next 4-5 chapters and some really terrible (or at least monumental) things have been happening to me recently. A little emotionally draining, so I didn't get a lot of time to write this throughout the past week and a half. but it's here now, and that's what matters, right you guys!**

 **:D**

* * *

 **April 18th, 1995**

 **Newgale Beach, Wales**

 ** _The Lighthouse_**

* * *

Her father had refused to answer any of her questions about why he agreed to Lucius Malfoy's offer to dinner during the Summer. He just kept up the excuse of, 'Like it or not, the Malfoy's are your family, Maisie. We should see them.' Maisie had _never_ not trusted what her Father had to say before. Whether that was because he'd never hid something from her before or not, she had no idea. But she knew that she definitely didn't like where this was going.

Her Father had her pack a bag after they got home. She was dressed in a light periwinkle skirt and a short-sleeved white blouse that she couldn't remember leaving behind when she left in September. Her bedroom had been kept in impeccable shape, the same since she left on her birthday. The clothes that she only wore on special occasions, the few gowns that she had, as well as the beautiful, beaded white gown that she wore for the Yule Ball (she unpacked everything in her trunk last night) were inside of it. However, when she had opened it yesterday, she'd found that it was already full, with a lot of new clothes inside of it.

Maisie twisted her face in confusion as she moved through her closet, finding things inside that she'd never seen before. Had Venus gone shopping for her when she was at school? But why not just send the clothes directly to her, rather than packing them inside of her bedroom? Assuming this as fact, as no one else in the world knew her sizes (especially given that she's grown more this year than she has in all of her previous) Maisie decided to let it drop until her father and herself arrived at her Aunt's new home.

When she wandered down the stairs that still creaked gently at the slightest pressure, she slid her hand down the black, iron banister as she always did. Along the side of the too tall staircase were round portraits. One of them was of her Grandfather, who was going through his big black atlas on his painted desk, muttering to himself about how much he wished that he had more than one book to read. The largest portrait was oval-shaped and the frame was made of pure gold. Inside of the frame was her Mother's Grandmother Frances, the wife of a Prewett. She was a thinner woman with light red hair, and came from the Abbott's family originally. Inside of the frame was how she was in her prime. Pretty, young, with those soft Abbott features and gentle brown-eyed gaze. She was stroking her very long, curled red ponytail, running her fingers through it while a small cat rubbed it's head against her large skirts. Frances and her husband had left for the Americas in the 19th century, in Massachusetts. A summer home still remained there, though it might be barren, with only elderly House Elves to take care of it.

Maisie was glad there were no portraits of her Malfoy born Grandmother, who with her icy blonde hair and snapping, harsh tongue could easily make someone cry. Of course, they were family, so the woman likely never _wanted_ to make her cry, but that didn't mean that she didn't cause her to weep on occasion.

Wandering inside of the parlor, which was a light pink room with white trim, Maisie fetched her dark blue cloak from the hanger they kept inside. Her father had his traveling suit on and was hunched over their fireplace, speaking with her Aunt, likely. She couldn't hear what they were talking about, but considering her Father's shoulders―which were hunched up―and his voice which had a distinct hard edge to it, was that Venus was giving him attitude and her Father wasn't having any of it.

Drawing her attention away from her Father, she noticed that an owl was sitting at the window, waiting patiently to be let inside. _Strange,_ she thought, for an owl not to peck at the glass until noticed. She moved closer to the window and opened one of the rectangular doors to the outward angled glass. There was condensation on the glass and outside it was still very cloudy and damp. The owl was a pale tawny color and it carefully walked in on it's claws rather than fly inside and cause a mess of it's feathers.

Maisie fought to hide a grin as the peculiar little owl walked onto the large wooden desk that they kept pressed against the wall, it's letter still firmly inside of it's beak.

"Who are you for, now, hmm?" She asked it gently, like it would respond to her. She tried to get a name from the envelope, but the blasted bird had it upside down!

With another look towards her father, whose head was still inside of the fireplace, Maisie reached out to the owl, who fluttered it's feathers testily, but did not let go of the letter, even just to bite her. "C'mon, I'll take it then. You aren't from the Ministry." She said. The owl, who only stared at her as she spoke to it, didn't even move when she reached forward and plucked the letter from it's beak.

Seeming satisfied, the owl trilled and walked back outside of the glass window and flew away into the mist.

"Strange owl." Maisie commented to herself before closing the latch and flipping over the letter. Indeed, it had her Father's name on it, but again, it wasn't from the Ministry.

"Who's that for then, love?" Henry asked her, his head out of the fireplace now, the Floo call with Venus seemingly over.

"You, who else?" She said to him in a light tone of voice, handing over the letter, which felt rather heavy. Her Father nodded briskly in thanks and with his wand he cut the top of it and fetched out it's contents to read hastily as he also reached for his briefcase (full of Ministry work, probably all still about Sirius Black and trying to find his damned location) and trunk. Her Father mouthed the words on the page as his eyes quickly moved over the words. He raised his hand and gestured for his daughter to hurry to the front door. They wouldn't be Flooing to Venus' because it would aggravate Henry's sinuses.

Maisie, biting her bottom lip, and staring at the briefcase in her Father's hand, considered what would happen if she told him about Sirius Black. It had been months since Potter had tackled her down in the Common Room after discovering the truth that Sirius Black was supposedly innocent. And that Wormtail, a man named Peter Pettigrew, had framed him. ' _Please, Maisie, I'm so sorry, shush shush!'_ _'Wormtail...?'_

Henry then let out a derisive, almost sarcastic huff at whatever was written on the letter in his hands. Then, he tucked it away in his coat pocket before reaching up and removing his reading glasses from his face.

"Alright." He then said. "Ready to go. C'mon now love, don't want to miss out on seeing your Aunt's silly Lighthouse, do you?" His tone sounded forcefully humorous, and Maisie knew that whatever that letter had said really bothered him. The sight of her Father's face being twisted, his dark brows furrowed and a bit of a grimace drawn on his mouth, worried her. But, already expecting that he'd silence her if she asked after the letter, Maisie simply bit the inside of her cheek and took her luggage outside, took his arm, and they Apparated away.

/~/

The Lighthouse wasn't that massively tall.

It was squat and a vibrant white color, which meant that Venus had probably just put a fresh coat of paint on it. It was on the side of a grassy cliff, and white sand was firmly settled inside of the crevices of the ground. Bright flowers were littered around the area. It was a beautiful place, though it was cloudy and dark. Maisie imagined that when the sun poked through the clouds, it could get quite warm around there. Beside her, her Father took out his wand and pointed it at their luggage. It rose up and began to rock lightly in the breeze behind them, and then followed after them as they approached the Lighthouse.

Right when they took their steps onto the bright, sea-blue porch, the front door and it's screen flew open.

Venus was tall, like her brother was. She had a very womanly figure, with wide hips and long, fit legs. Her hair was colored a vibrant honey shade today and her lips were painted a coral pink. She had forgone any witches robes, and was instead dressed in trousers and a green wife beater. At the sight of her brother and niece, Venus let out a very shrill sound and darted forward to embrace her lanky form.

"Hello darling!" She cheered as she rocked the two of them side to side, the smell of Venus invading her nostrils. Her own homemade perfumes, since she refused to trust any mainstream Wizarding cosmetics (or any products at all, really) smelt overwhelmingly of candyfloss and nectar. Maisie let out a bark of laughter, feeling how strained her face felt, as her smile didn't at all budge. Being around Venus made her feel so much better; Happier. Now, the oddness of Lucius Malfoy, the reactions of her Father and the fact that Fleur would be leaving by the end of the school year, were far back in her mind. They weren't unimportant, but for now, she couldn't do anything about them.

"Hey Venus." Maisie greeted her happily, embracing her Aunt.

Venus drew back, a smile on her painted lips as her brown eyes gleamed. Then she put her hands on her hips and looked at Henry, who was only rolling his eyes at his sister's expected crass and boldness.

"Toad-kisser." Venus then drawled at him, her smile dropping to a snide, yet friendly smirk.

Henry bristled and pointed a finger at his sister. "Shut up." He hissed, his carefully combed hairdo almost sticking up on end. He then walked around his twin―keeping his eyes on her the whole time, as if he expected her to lash out at him with another hidden paintbrush caked in boomslang like last Easter―and inside of the Lighthouse.

The blonde woman snorted and shoved one of Henry's floating pieces of luggage, making it go off course and bump into the wooden pillar next to him.

Then, she turned back to her niece, expression amused. "C'mon now girl, have a look around my new abode." Venus said with a dramatic show of her hands to her rickety front door.

The inside of the Lighthouse was painted a bright, light color of green with white trim around the floorboards. There was a carpet that looked like it had lost a battle with a Lightening Potion and there was a head of a large buck on the wall over the brick fireplace, staring blankly ahead with it's marble eyes. Knowing Venus, she could probably see through it's eyes from the other side of the wall. There were stacks of huge wooden and cardboard boxes all around the living room area, each of them with stickers slapped on the side of them. Maisie looked around three times, but still couldn't spot her Aunt's Husband, who usually sat in his engraved, wooden portrait frame, preferring it to the other frames that her Aunt owned.

"Where's Reg?" Maisie asked with a light cough from the heavy smell of saltwater inside of the Lighthouse, taking a few steps forward to inspect around the cardboard boxes, like his portrait was hidden around somewhere.

Venus scoffed and flicked her fingers through her blonde hair. "He's upstairs." Then, she crossed her arms in front of her, her face obviously displaying her distaste for her dead husband, who must have spoken about either her choice of residence or something similar. "Says that it's too early to get the fireplace linked in with the Floo network. But I damn well cleaned out that entire thing! I remodeled the whole chimney myself, it's brand-spanking new. It's more ready for the Floo network than the bloody new Ministry building!" Her Aunt ranted, pacing as her hands went this way and that to exaggerate her displeasure. It was hard to smother her laugh at the sound of it.

"Have you had a bloke come by to check it? I thought all new chimneys needed an inspection." Maisie wondered, thinking about when her Father had his face in the fireplace, clearly talking to Venus. Sure, a Floo-call was different than transportation, but still, it needed to be connected to the Network.

Venus shrugged her tanned shoulders with a sneaky grin. "There's no way some government official is going to come by into _my_ house. It'd just give them the opportunity to leave behind their bloody _spies._ No way. There won't be a Ministry agent in my house until Merlin himself comes by in neon bloomers to have tea and a quickie." Her voice turned sharp and firm at the end and was directed at Henry when he came down the creaky stairs next to the door. He raised a brow at his twin and breathed heavily out of his nostrils.

"Language, Venus." He tried to chide her, but it only earned him a flip of the bird. "Reginald agrees with me, you know." He then said.

The blonde snorted. "Oh so you've been talking to my no-good rotten dead husband up there? Great, wonderful, talk to me when he's done with his wee tantrum and I'll get back to him when I have the time cleared up in my schedule, _love_."

Maisie cleared her throat, trying to remind them that she was in front of them.

Venus just smiled and moved forward, wrapping her arm around her shoulders. "We―" She gestured between them, and Maisie could only stand there as she thought how weird and funny this all was. "Are going to go for a nice food run. Henari _ **hah**_ , why don't you hold down the fort?" Even though it seemed like it was a question, it was clearly more of an order, because she didn't wait for an answer from her brother, instead she just picked up her cloak from the hat-rack next to the front door and wrapped it around her shoulders before tugging her niece out the door, leaving Henry bristly scowling at where they used to be. He huffed and took out his wand, beginning to move the boxes out of his way.

As Venus led Maisie out of the house, a chilly wave of wind greeted them. Maisie, being more sensitive than others, tightened her dark blue cloak around herself while Venus only kept walking on, despite her preference for warmer weather.

The Newgale beach was pleasing to the eye, with a nice view over the large, widespread beach-grass littered cliff that Maisie was now strolling on top of. The salty, ocean smell was heavy, but the winds that so often passed by lightened the scent to make it much easier to her sweetly upturned nose. Venus didn't seem bothered by the smell like she was, instead she only hiked up her cloak and marched along with her.

"Venus―" Maisie started, only to get her foot caught on a stone, causing her to trip up for a moment before recovering double-time to catch up to her Aunt. "Where are we going?" Not that she didn't trust her Aunt. It was more that the woman often found herself with the need to follow after every conspiracy theory that she could possibly find. Even if it was about wizards secretly turning themselves into seagulls to capture baby sea turtles to capture their shells. It was something that Venus always had to protrude her opinion into, and therefore Maisie had to really keep her eyes open now that she was out with her, otherwise, almost like a cat or perhaps a first year, she'd be gone into the crowds ahead of them.

"Hmm? Oh!" Venus exclaimed, turning her head back twice to look at her, her brown eyes widening at the sound of her soft voice. "Town. We're going into town, sweetness." She told her, pushing the palm of her hand to move her blonde hair back. With an internal scoff, Maisie thought a little bitterly that even her Aunt wasn't spared from forgetting about her during the school year.

"Alright-y." The sable-haired girl muttered. Venus didn't hear her moment of teenaged angst, thankfully, and just continued on walking along the sandy trail.

"So, how's the Triwizard Tournament going at Hogwarts? You've been seeing all of the Tasks?" She asked, turning back to make sure that she was still keeping up with her long, steady gait. With Maisie's long legs, her stride was enough to keep up with her Aunt's, but with her legs having very little muscle definition and the chill in the air, she was still a tad slower than her.

Sensing Venus and knowing when she was reaching for information, the young witch just shrugged. "Yes, I have. They, well, they've been _interesting_ at least." She said, trying to stay neutral, in the very unlikely case that the other witch had been reading through the Daily Prophet and Witch Weekly for Tournament updates. Her name had never been stated in any of the papers, but surely Venus knew from her Father that she had been more **involved** in the Tasks than simply watching them.

"Interesting?" Her tone was sharper. Unable to keep her eagerness for information restrained within herself.

Maisie kept her sigh light, so that she couldn't hear it. She knew that her Aunt was waiting with a baited breath for her to divulge all of the dirty secrets of the Tournament into her ear. It was like talking to a reporter.

"Yeah. It's bizarre―seeing all of these foreigners around the Castle in their bright colors." Maisie told her, purposely stepping on top of a dead stick, listening to it's CRACKS. It was better than listening to the wind, the sound of the ocean waves and her Aunt's nostrils widening.

"I'm sure it is. Hogwarts rarely changes."

"I don't think that's true." She replied softly.

Venus turned her head, like she didn't hear her. Maybe she didn't. Maisie wasn't sure. "What was that?" She asked, her tone friendly now.

"Nothing. I was just thinking about how different next year will be." She lied. She had never lied to Venus before in her life. Venus trusted her, she absolutely knew that. But what she also knew was that she couldn't know more about her involvement in the Tournament. It was from sheer luck that her name or photo didn't show up in the papers.

"Oh yeah, good luck little miss thing. You've got O.W.L.s next year!" Venus suddenly laughed, waving her hand up and down at her in a quick fan-like motion. "Those almost killed me when I took them. Only three OWLs. Three!" She exclaimed, flopping her arms out and then against her sides. Her laughter subsided as they got into walking distance to the town. It was small, and it looked like it was made up from many grey-blue topped mushroom buildings that were all closely squashed together in a sort of fairy ring. The sides of the mushroom-buildings were covered up by white-ish cobblestone and they all had light-colored doors that looked like they were made of petrified wood.

Their muttering conversation slowly moved from the topics that strained the muscles in Maisie's cheeks to how beautiful the local village was, and how wonderful a place Newgale beach was for Venus to live in.

/~/

When they returned to the Lighthouse, her Father had already cleared out most of the boxes and Reginald's portrait was hanging up on the downstairs wall. Depicted was a clearly aged man. He didn't have white hair yet, though it did pool right at the temples of his brown hair. Born to the Catriné family of Portugal, he had already been in his early sixties when he married her Aunt at the age of nineteen. Maisie's Grandparents had purposely chosen the twice married, twice widowered gentleman to marry their daughter with the hope that Reginald might rub off on Venus and give her more of a demure demeanor. Now, among the elite Pureblood society, it was joked that Venus, with her attitude and unladylike-everything, had killed her husband.

It was actually a case of Dragon Pox.

Reginald had died before Maisie was born, but when Mabel had been in the very early stages of pregnancy.

Henry and Venus began their bickering very quickly after she and Venus walked in through the door, so Maisie was ushered up the stairs to explore what would essentially be her bedroom.

The stairs creaked on the way up, and she ran her hand along the strange color of paint that her Aunt picked out for the stairwell wall. It looked like an old, faded teal that was left out far too long.

The room was at her immediate left and had a round window that gave her a view of the cliff outside. It looked salt-soaked and probably needed a cleaning, but Maisie didn't really mind the white fading. Her mossy eyes ran over the small room and bit her lip at the light peach pink of the walls. She hadn't painted her bedroom a pink color since she was a kid. She ran her fingertips over the painted wall and tapped her fingernail against the... wood? Plaster? She shrugged to herself and began just idly thinking of Fleur and how she would probably love being around here on the beach.

Fleur would struggle to find something wrong with it, then give up in that huffy way that she did and slump her shoulders (she almost never did that, priding herself in her perfect posture) before smiling that heart-stopping smile of hers. 'I 'ive up. You win.' She'd say with a gesture of her shoulder.

Maisie stopped her small fantasy short, her nails now digging into the wall and making a cringing scratching noise. Her throat closed slightly. _Was I smiling,_ she questioned herself. Yes, she had! Just from thinking about Fleur.

It had only been a few days and she missed her. After months of constantly seeing the Beauxbatons Champion, she was so used to everything about her that now that it was gone...

"Wish Fleur was here." She murmured to herself a bit sadly, out loud―softly, quietly, so that even if her Father and Venus were listening, they couldn't hear her―as she softened her hand on the wall back to the pads of her fingers rather than her nails.

"Huh." Maisie continued to herself, pursing her pink mouth as she stood against a pink wall in her small, beachside bedroom. "I fancy a frog. That's weird."

* * *

 **I kNOW this is a bit short? I had other things planned for this, but because I was already pushing it, I'm going to have to shift it over to the next chapter**

 **i know i dknow im awful and this chapter doesnt have much going for it? i dunno, i went through a few editing moments right before posting, but i dont know how happy i am with it.**

 **R &R?**


	21. Chapter 21

**Thanks fowlgirl19, AvalonTheLadyKiller, maighdean mhara, Lulu14168, 2 Guests and missalexis for reviewing!**

 **Also, my dear French Guest reviewer! Hello! i know that you (like everyone, really, I think once Voldemort is an official presence and character, this story's reviewers are going to go way up) are really really becoming impatient to see Voldemort finally become physically part of the story, but these things take time, i'm really sorry about that!**

 **Also this chapter took A LONG TIME TO WRITE, I'm so sorry about that, but my work schedule was full-time for a few weeks, and then suddenly I took a miniature vacation to San Francisco (which isn't as exciting as it sounds, really, I live 45 minutes away from the city) but now I'm back! Hopefully I can go back to updating once a week, but with my job, it's very unsure.  
**

* * *

 **April, 1995**

 **Newgale Beach, United Kingdom**

 ** _The Suitors and the Art of Wifery_**

* * *

Lunch consisted of buns and roast chicken that her Father prepared, along with lemonade curtesy of Venus.

Maisie used a tin of chamomile from her Aunt's cabinet for their tea. The teapot was rather funny looking, it being in the shape of a hen with it's beak opening every time she poured out a cup from it. It even chirped when the tea she prepared was done steeping. Amused by the silly teapot of her Aunt's, Maisie set out the rest of the set, which included an egg-shaped sugar dish and chick tea cups. The saucers were pure white and also in the shape of eggs and all of them were made of prime porcelain.

"Where did you buy this tea-set, Venus?" Maisie asked with a shrewd smile on her face.

"Muggle place in Ireland when I was picking up Horus over there." She said, gesturing with her chin to the buck on the wall. Only Venus would name a buck after an Egyptian god. Utterly ridiculous.

Her Father seemed to think so as well, because he snorted as he removed the hot buns from the pan onto a serving tray that he just removed from one of the many boxes that Venus had yet to unpack. The buns smelled amazing, like yeast and butter, and Maisie remembered that she only just barely had a cup of tea that morning for breakfast, so her growling stomach was a force to be reckoned with. The young Gryffindor finished pouring three cups of the hot tea for them all.

Henry put out two dishes of jam to accompany the buns.

Lunch was mostly filled with pleasant, small chitter-chatter and the occasional snide remark from Venus to her twin.

The entirety of Maisie's stay at her Aunt's Lighthouse consisted of such homely, warm conversation such as this. In fact, it wasn't until the last night, the day before she would return to Hogwarts, that the tone in Maisie's soft, gentle voice turned harsh. She had been rifling around upstairs in the small, pink bedroom that Venus had gifted her, hoping to give it some personal touches (not many of course, just things that she picked up from the small town nearby and things that she got her Aunt to transfigure for her), when two owls burst through her window. Both of them seemed to be furiously pecking at each other and dozens of feathers were now floating around her bedroom.

Her yelp of utter surprise only seemed to bother them more and it directed their attention to her, who the letters were addressed to.

They ambushed her, and she had to snatch the two letters out of the air. Then, she dropped to the floor to get out of the way of the owl's sharp claws as the birds angrily began to flap around with their huge wings, feathers flying around and getting inhaled through Maisie's nostrils as the two owls shoved themselves out of her window again, their bodies ramming into the window door, causing the entire thing to shutter horribly before they squawked and cried at each other, flying their separate ways over the Welsh ocean.

Maisie spluttered, shaking the loose feathers out of her hair before sitting down on the ground, leaning against her pink bedroom wall.

The two letters in her hands were both addressed to her, and her heart almost leapt into her throat seeing Fleur's unmistakably feminine handwriting. It was strange how the mind could instantly revert back to a moment in time. She desperately craved the blonde's company. She even wished for her foul temperament and poor manners. Maisie thought of the brief kiss they shared at Hogsmeade and felt her face go hot at the memory and how much she wished for a repeat performance. Would Fleur want to kiss her again? Had she meant the kiss in the way that Maisie thought? Or was this another case of cultural differences?

Did she want to kiss Fleur again? Maisie wondered about herself.

The deafening answer was clearly _yes._ She absolutely did want to kiss Fleur again. Again. And again. Though mostly, she wanted Fleur to kiss her. There was something more thrilling about Fleur kissing her deliberately of her own desire that was far more attractive to Maisie.

Another far more pressing thought then pushed its way into her mind. Did this mean she was a... A lesbian? Such women were talked about, not _poorly_ per say in pureblood social circles, but maybe more judgmental. Whatever a witch preferred did not matter, as long as a child was born from a pureblooded union. Then there was no such fuss, nor reason to discriminate against her as long as their values were upheld. There were always rumors about these women though. Secret little ways were created to ruin her without bringing her sexuality into play, decimating her reputation. She feared that fate.

But, now that Maisie thought more about Fleur and herself, she realized that maybe she wasn't a... _That_. The word itself she didn't like very much. Lesbian. Maisie had heard it be used badly often enough that she didn't want to associate it with herself. It didn't sound like a nice word to call someone. Besides, maybe it wasn't entirely correct about herself? She'd been attracted to boys and men before. Maisie raised her hand up and bit down on her thumbnail. Diggory, Krum she both found handsome and nice to look at.

 _And_... As much as she hated to admit it, there was a bit of a flutter in her stomach for Potter. And he was very much a male! In fact, he, along with the rest of the boys in her year, had just begun to look quite handsome to her. Potter, while he was not burly and sculpted along the lines of Diggory or Krum, had a very attractive air to him. He was striking, she remembered, trying to picture his face. He had a pleasant face to look at, with a straight nose and a firm jawline. But it was softer, smoother than Diggory's. And his eyes (green like hers, but much more brilliant and rich in color) were rather feminine with an almond shape and long, black lashes.

She bit down on her nail harder.

At the Yule Ball, she had been pressed up against him in dance. He played Quidditch. He was faster than she was. He was stronger than she was. He'd been able to pin her down on the floor of the Common Room and keep her there with his strength alone. Being utterly powerless underneath him had frightened her at the time, thinking that he had been somehow conspiring with a mass murderer and she would soon be found in the Lake or somewhere else, with no one around to recognize her but the Professors.

Then, her bad luck before the Ball. Should a boy ever set foot on the girl's staircase, it would reject them and turn into an unclimbable slide before their feet, and it rejected her too, sending her off on top of Potter. He had let out a breath that touched between her legs.

A twinge of strange pleasure at the memory almost made the Gryffindor drop her letters. This was in no way something she should be thinking about in her Aunt's house! Not at all!

Maisie swallowed and patted her forehead, feeling how hot her face was. Attempting to distract herself from the strange memories of Harry Potter, she opened the window once more before breaking the wax seal on Fleur's letter.

Her writing was unmistakable and as feminine and confusing as she was. And right off the bat, her overwhelming beauty diminished by her first sentence written.

 _Dearest Maisie,_

 _This castle is horrendous._

 _Of course it is_ , she thought a bit tiredly, leaning heavily against the wall as she prepared herself for a rant from the French witch about Hogwarts once again. And Fleur wasn't even there to pace or raise her perfect nose up in disgust! She took in a slightly longer breath of Welsh ocean air before returning to the jasmine-scented parchment with her fancy's script on it.

 _Without you, nothing about it holds any appeal to me. Not the warming water of the Great Lake nor the green fields of grass. I yearn for the Easter holidays to end, though I hope earnestly that your time with your family has been most pleasant._

 _My sister Gabrielle writes to me of her time back in Beauxbatons. She is my grand love, and she has assured me that she and our parents are to arrive early on the day of the Tournament. I know I have asked this of you before your departure, but once again, would you care to meet them? They are kind people, especially my Papa. He too shares your great fondness for teas and brewed beverages. I think you would like him very much, though I fear that you may be taller than he is._

 _It is my wish that this letter reaches you well before you are due to return, though I find it doubtful. The best owls were all very much missing. I suspect that they were still attacking that girl in your dormitory. She was unwise to make an attack on that Skeeter woman._

 _Vous êtes mon cœur,_

 _Fleur Delacour_

Her writing had several blots of ink in places, like she had paused in her writing to translate the words in her head. Picturing her made her smile.

Deciding that it would be moot to send a reply right away when she was to see her again tomorrow night, Maisie tried to restrain her pleasure at reading Fleur's words and tucked away her letter into her skirt pocket. The second letter still needed her attention.

She had never received more than one letter at a time before. It was a new experience for her. Inside of the letter was perfect white parchment. It was folded precisely and smelt of ink. The young Gryffindor opened up the parchment which was folded in three equal parts. On it was a full, large paragraph all written in black ink. But the large text of black was ignored in favor of a few words that stuck out to her. And these words were, 'hand in marriage' and 'Percival Ignatius Weasley' written at the very bottom.

/~/

"Percy Weasley." She said, staring up at her ceiling on her plain, white comforter covered bed.

For the last; What bloody time was it anyway? She had absolutely no clue, so she checked. Hour then. For the last hour, she'd been lying quite numb on top of her mattress, not reading the rest of Weasley's letter. Only continued to marvel over what had just happened. Well, 'happened' sounded rather definite, even in just her thoughts. Occurred maybe. She'd just been proposed to. Via a letter. By a Weasley. One of the many of them.

What did she know about the Weasley family?

There were seven children and their parents. Their Mother was a Prewett girl. Her brothers had died in the First Wizarding War. They were Pureblooded, but only by coincidence. They didn't care about blood status.

The youngest was the only girl. Ginny. Maisie didn't know her, she was a year beneath her.

Ronald was Potter's best friend.

The twins made her nervous. Their pranks sometimes hurt her. Accidentally, but they hurt her. Humiliated her in public.

Percy... He had been Prefect. When Sirius Black had been on his 'rampage' last year, he had been the Head Boy. He tried to calm everyone down (though it was through mostly stressed out shouts and a hard look in his eyes, since it was his brother that had seen Black looking at him with a large knife) in the Common Room. Now, at the Yule Ball, it seemed like his head had grown at least four sizes. But he was sort of nice? Not pleasant though.

No, he wasn't pleasant. Not at all.

Feeling herself begin to stress, Maisie began to speak out loud in her pink bedroom that Percy Weasley was not pleasant to be around and that she absolutely didn't like him. She didn't like him. He was bad. She didn't like Percy Weasley. She didn't want to be with Percy Weasley. Ever. She didn't want to be engaged to him and she didn't want to walk down an aisle and see him at the end of it. She didn't want to be a Weasley. When the panicking girl finally had reconvened her frantic thoughts and horrible envisions of the future as a Weasley where her hair had magically become ginger orange, she opened her eyes and looked down at the letter with it's perfect folds and precise words, her pink mouth in a strained grimace.

The huge block of words before her were painfully well separated. There was no real passion in the words, and Maisie suspected that the letter hadn't even been written by the man, but by a self-writing quill.

It started out with her entire name and official 'title'. _Dear, Mairead Martin-Moors. Daughter and Heiress of the Moors Family._ It was extremely formal. No one ever referred to her by her title. 'Heiress' meant nothing, really. Especially not when there was no major fortune or business to receive.

 _Mairead, I realize that we do not know much of each other, nor have spent much time in each others company. However, I have not been able to keep you from my mind since I took Mr. Crouch's place at the Yule Ball in December. When I heard that your Father had decided to search for a fiance for you, I simply had to inquire after your hand. Our union, should you choose to accept my proposal, I believe would be very prosperous. I realize that we are both young. Our engagement may last as long as you would wish. I will be moving to London in the near future, should you wish to speak with me in the summer, you need only ask._

 _Percival Ignatius Weasley_

 _Son of the Weasley Family_

Maisie scrunched up her face as she crumbled up the parchment paper, destroying it's perfect lines and perfect words that clearly conveyed their falseness. He'd clearly gone through several drafts for it and used as many honeyed words as he possibly could. She threw the parchment at the wall. It hit it and tumbled down onto the floor. Her face turned hot and the feeling of tears welling in her eyes had her mouth open in a silent cry. She felt horrible anguish at the letter. She couldn't marry this boy. The _third_ son. Not only did the third son give her nothing in the means of money or inheritance (not that the _Weasley's_ had anything of the sort, akin to marrying a launderer or something of the like) but she would be the least important of the family. And with the Weasley's having such a large family...

No. No absolutely not, she wouldn't marry into the Weasley family. She'd bring up these points to her Father and insist that there would be nothing positive to marrying Percy Weasley. She'd rather marry whoever her Mother's cousin so obviously had in mind.

It would be better than that boy with the horn-rimmed glasses.

Maisie continued to stew about Percy Weasley even the next morning. She shoved the crumpled up letter on top of her Fathers newspaper at breakfast, causing him to actually inhale some of his morning tea. It went out of his nose and caused a coughing fit.

Henry pounded his chest, coughing into his napkin, his dark eyes becoming weepy.

"Maisie!" He gasped, adjusting his glasses as he picked up the letter, looking over the words. He recovered, swallowed back his tea and smoothed back his hair, which was still loose, without it's usual gel, and was curling over his forehead and behind his ears. "Percy Weasley..." He muttered nasally to himself. It had a tone of curiosity, and as Maisie breathed out nervously, watching the man who inevitably held her fate in his hands, she hoped that it also held disapproval. Percy Weasley had no promising prospects in his future, being the third son of a poor blood traitor family. "Is it―You'd like to accept, or...?" He wanted to know her choice, she was thankful.

"No, I don't want to accept." She said bluntly to him, firm in her voice, but still in a respectful manner.

Henry nodded then and set down the parchment, seemingly finished with it. "Very well. You may send back your apologies to him, love."

"Shooing away the suitors already?" Venus called out from the living room where she was hanging a garland around Horus's neck. "You must have someone particular in mind, babe."

Maisie flushed.

/~/

"Oh my dear!" Fleur exclaimed in surprise, seeing her friend standing at her doorstep. She'd only just glanced up at the clock, hoping to check the time before she had to return to her Headmistress' room like she wished of her. Instead, she saw a wide-eyed, gentle-faced girl with sable colored hair that was a mess of large feminine curls, her cloak over her shoulder and her stockings with dirt covered holes at the knees, like she had fallen over in her rush to the carriage. Her heart sped up, and she felt frozen in her delight.

Maisie rushed forward before the french witch could even get up off of her mattress. She set Eugenia's cage down on Fleur's dresser and actively threw herself into the blonde's arms. Fleur let out a sound of surprise and wrapped her arms around the smaller girl's back. She buried her face into her neck, catching the familiar smell of her perfume, which was very floral smelling.

"I missed you so." She whispered in an almost croak. Her voice sounded scratchy and unpleasant.

"May-sea?" Fleur murmured back to her, her eyes narrowing as she tried to catch the look on the girl's face.

"Did you miss me? Fleur? Did you?" Maisie asked her softly, settling on her lap, keeping their warm embrace. Thoughts of marriage and Percy Weasley and horrid red-headed children flashed through her mind, making her dread even more who else could possibly want her hand.

The french witch reached up and moved her fingertips through her hair, worried for Maisie. Had something happened to her over her holiday? Fierce, protective anger hit Fleur at the possibility of _her_ girl being harmed in any way possible. No one was to harm _her_ friend, _her_ fancy. "Has something 'appened?" She asked, strained, her arms tightening around Maisie's waist, pulling her more fully onto her lap. If she said yes, hell would be raised. She'd show whomever did this to her girl that Veela's were truly a terrifying species, especially when one threatened their possible mate.

Maisie nodded and swallowed the lump in her throat. "I got my first proposal yesterday."

Fleur could feel her eyes dilate, could feel the annoying pressure and strain on them. "Did you? Who was it?"

The darker haired witch scoffed and pulled out of her arms. Very reluctantly, she allowed her to move, but wouldn't let her out of her lap, keeping her hands on either side of Maisie's hips. "Percy Weasley." The girl spat in a mean way that Fleur's never heard from her before. Her pretty face screwed itself up and she threw her cloak on the other side of the bed. "He didn't even _write_ it himself! I've seen his handwriting on the papers in the Common Room. He used a Quick-Notes Quill to write up pretty words."

" _Oh my lovely_." Fleur crooned to her in her native French, stroking her cool arms, leaving her face blank so as not to reveal the fury beneath her skin.

"I've refused him." Maisie confided to her, her tone small and childlike. Her youthful face looked sad and her red lips were pursed as she stared at her hands on her lap, and then at Fleur's face, which had a forced smile on it. "But... What if he's the only one?" She asked, distressed.

"'e won't be." She insisted immediately. "Non. Look at you. You are so kind. Wise. So pretty. You will 'ave suitors out the door!" Fleur declared, tossing her hand in the air to gesture at room's door. "I assure you." She said, moving forward to leave a kiss on Maisie's rosy cheek, lingering to satisfy her need to be close to her pretty self.

Maisie rubbed her lips together and looked down, quiet. "But―what if to say that―" She began. The Gryffindor was silenced by Fleur's fingertips covering her bitten lips.

"Out the door." She brought her chin up, so she could look into her widely dilated eyes. "Oui?" Fleur raised a perfect brow, daring her to say 'no' one more time, her shift in movement full of attitude.

Maisie looked tempted to speak up again, but instead she shyly nodded and slumped her shoulders down, keeping her eyes low. "Oui, madame." She said.

* * *

 **Not only is this late, but it's short too.**

 **im sorry**

 **but in case anyone was wondering, MADNESS HAPPENS next chapter, and then the chapter after that is the FINAL TASK~~~**

 **I know you all want voldemort, since this is a voldemort/Tom Riddle X Maisie story and so far it's been little and far in between, but I promise promise it's happening! itll all be so exciting and frightening**


	22. Chapter 22

**hurrying, hurrying, everyones excited, hurrying, hurrying.**

 **thanks AvalonTheLadyKiller,** **Chocoholics Unite,** **maighdean mhara and one Guest for reviewing!~**

 **And to the Guest, I wish you had made that review when logged in so I could respond to you privately! Thanks with the help on the French on Fleur's letter, but at the end, Maisie calling her 'Madame' was purposeful, since it was a potshot at Fleur for being bossy and old.**

* * *

 **May, 1995**

 **Hogwarts Castle, Scotland**

 ** _The Outrage, The Scandal_**

* * *

Fleur was due to go down to the Quidditch pitch soon. It was late, around eight o'clock.

Maisie was reluctant to let her go, but kept a 'brimming with happiness' smile on her face, hoping that her friend was correct in her assumptions about the Final Task.

"Eet makes sense. One Task, we battle a flying dragon. Second, under ze water. Underground must be next!" The blonde insisted as she tied her long, silvery blonde hair back with a black ribbon. The young Gryffindor didn't know if she was correct or not. Even if she was wrong with the exact Task, her logic may be right. Land, sea and sky may have been the inspiration for this year's Tournament.

"What would you be doing underground?" She asked, wrapping her warm cloak around herself. She'd walk with Fleur until they got to the part of the Castle closest to the Gryffindor Common Room, then depart.

The blonde shrugged her shoulders, pretending as if she hadn't been pouring over the ideas for the past week and a half. "Each time we 'ave been trying to collect something. Once again, we might be doing zhat. Gold, treasure?"

Maisie nodded, her sable curls falling over her shoulder (Fleur had insisted on curling her hair for her) as she picked up her freshly patched up satchel that contained the Defense homework that she'd needed help with. Moody's been adding to the large heap of preparation for the O.W.L.s, which had been the cause of the girl's lack of sleep. That, and the stress of the final days of the Tournament of course. If Fleur got hurt again, she'd blow a bloody gasket in the stands. The Grindylows only just so got away from her terrorizing. Lucky aquatic things, swimming away from her stunning spells (not that they were very strong in the first place, they could only barely be CALLED stunning spells, what with their bad quality.)

"What does Viktor think?" She asked, brushing her hands over her clothing.

Fleur scoffed and stood from her chair, clasping her cloak at the base of her neck. "'e doesn't. 'E says that the previous Tasks were supposed to prepare us for the last one. Ze information that we get tonight is all that we need, _supposedly._ " Then she snorted unattractively and put her hands on her hips. "Good enough for him, who isn't in _last_ place." Fleur's bitterness at her failure in the Tournament made Maisie frown.

"It's not like he's first either. That's Diggory." She reminded her shortly.

The blonde let out a loud sigh through her nostrils before closing her eyes and shaking her head. "I know that... Come, you must not mees your curfew." Her pronunciation was off.

Maisie allowed her arm to go into Fleur's and they exited the carriage.

They separated at the staircase to the Castle. Fleur very quickly pecked her on the lips before turning on her heel and leaving for the Quidditch pitch.

Fleur reached up and patted her cheeks, hoping to quench down the warmth there. It was so foolish to keep blushing over small kisses! What would she do should her girl ask for more? Sit there and stutter rather than show her the time of her life? The blonde huffed and swallowed back her fears, striding much more confidently away, shoes making a 'clacking' noise on the stone ground, which echoed off the walls awkwardly. She was the second to arrive, after Viktor. His bulky, stoic form was easily seen as she noticed that he was almost glaring at the hedges in front of them on top of the green grass of the pitch. Ludo Bagman was there, in front of the ragged looking hedges, looking at his pocket watch while striding back and forth in front of Viktor. He was wearing dark indigo robes and shiny black shoes on his feet.

She raised up her chin and stood next to Viktor, going around the smaller hedges that were in her way.

He noticed her, and his face brightened. "Ah! Miss Delacour, excellent excellent. We're just waiting for our Hogwarts champions now then!" He said, mostly to himself as he clasped his hands in front of himself. Fleur got a short whiff of liquor from the man, which raised her irritation with him. How dare he mock this moment of the Tournament by showing up _drunk_?

Viktor, whom had remained silent at her arrival, looked at her in the corner of his eye. His mouth raised slightly in a minuscule smirk.

It wasn't long at all until all of the champions had arrived and she gifted Harry a brief, but brilliant, smile. She was appreciative of the boy who had pulled Maisie out of that damned freezing Lake. He looked flustered at it.

"Well, what do you lot think?" Bagman asked happily as Potter and Diggory got closer. "Growing nicely, aren't they? Give them a month and Hagrid'll have them twenty feet high. Oh, don't worry though." He added, seeing the sour looks on the Hogwarts champions faces. "You'll have them gone right after the Final Task and the Quidditch Pitch will be right where you left it. Now, can you four guess exactly what we're making here?" He asked them all eagerly, though he kept his gaze on Potter longer than the rest of them.

There was silence, and Fleur rued the day she stopped thinking on the subject the second she thought that they'd be going underground for treasure.

"Maze." Viktor said shortly.

"That's right!" Bagman exclaimed, pointing at the young man before going back to the maze behind him. "A maze. The Third Task is really very straightforward. The Triwizard Cup will be placed in the center of the maze. The first Champion to _touch_ the Cup―" He paused after he stressed this. "Will receive full marks."

Was this a chance for her to speed past the rest of them? Fleur tilted her chin up. "We simply 'ave to get through this maze?" She asked.

"There will be obstacles." He told them all, moving up and down the balls of his feet. He then proceeded to inform them what will be placed in the maze (vaguely, he just said creatures and spells, so she would have to touch up on just about everything to prepare for the Final Task) then told them the order of which they'd be entering. She, of course, would be last to enter. This mattered not to her, all she would have to do was graze the Triwizard Cup and she would win the entire Tournament. _I'm ready_ , she thought, raising up her shoulders in a dominant display. Proof of her confidence.

Krum let out a huff of amusement next to her.

Bagman began to pace in place and then dismissed them all if they had no questions. Fleur, with the intent to hurry back to her room in the Carriage and look once more through her spell books, turned away from the man to leave.

She noticed Krum leaving towards the forest with Harry. It spiked her curiosity, but it was none of her business whether they were heading out to duel or make passionate love with each other. That was truly amusing, but would explain why Viktor kept looking at the boy. Considering briefly in her mind to leave a parchment of tips to woo over boys for Viktor, Fleur smiled and continued on her way. A few stray twigs and leaves snapped underneath her feet. If Fleur hadn't been so distracted by her merry and harmless thoughts, she may have noticed a large, brutish shadow follow her from behind the endless forest. It closed in on her.

She was hit hard in the face, surprising her before she was yanked in by a rough hand into the shadows, her scream cut off by the hoarse whisper of a stunning spell.

/~/

Maisie had just finished her shower and was brushing out the curls in her dark hair when Hermione Granger suddenly opened the door to their dormitory. She looked frantic and sorrowful.

"Come quickly!" She insisted, her eyes wide. Her voice was so high and worried that Maisie actually followed her instruction without question, rushing down to follow her without even her robe. Had something happened? Was Hagrid's creatures finally coming upon the school to declare war? Or had McGonagall died? Had _anybody_ died? What had happened?

"Maisie!" Harry exclaimed from in front of the fireplace. Ronald was next to him, along with what looked like three other Weasleys. Eugh. Weasley. _Percy_ Weasley.

Maisie's face scrunched up in confusion and she went down the girl's stairs two at a time. "Harry? What? What is it?"

He looked miserable and shocked. "I just, I have to tell you―I mean, you're her friend, right? You're close, you have to know." He mumbled, his words scrambled. Her friend? "Fleur, she's been attacked. Krum too."

Had she fallen? When had she fallen?

Just now she had?

A moment ago she had been standing. Now, she was on the floor of the common room, her nightdress not offering her any protection from the rug burn that was now on the backs of her thighs. Her bottom also pained her, like she had fallen on the last step before arriving on the rough carpet. Her legs had given out from underneath her, which shocked Potter, because he darted in after her, grasping her by her wrist and elbow, pulling her back up to her feet and onto the couch that he had previously been sitting at. He was very close to her, kneeling there, holding onto her firmly, like he expected her to freak out.

"Is she―" Dead. She didn't want to speak the word.

Harry shook his head and she almost collapsed in on herself. "She's alright. Someone stunned her. But that's all that happened to her." He assured her worst fears. He looked sure of himself.

"Were you there? What happened?" She asked, recovering quickly from her grief.

"Barty Crouch stunned Krum and her and disappeared." Ronald said, trying to be helpful. Maisie had barely noticed that he was still there.

"Crouch!?" She exclaimed in surprise, making to stand up, but Harry grabbed her by her legs and hushed her, trying to get her to sit once more. He turned and sent a scolding glare at his friend and Hermione smacked Ron on the arm for telling the other girl such a lie.

"We don't _know_ who stunned Fleur." Harry stressed, flexing his fingers on top of her skirt, the heat of her body burning him pleasantly. He was prepared to keep her there all night if he had to, like Dumbledore had told him. 'Under no circumstances is _anybody_ allowed out of the Gryffindor Tower today, Harry.' He'd told him. "Moody and the other Professors are searching the grounds for Crouch and whoever stunned Fleur and Krum." He tried to assure her, soothe her worries and growing distress. She looked frightened, whether it was for Fleur or for her own safety in the Castle, he didn't know. But he couldn't just let her keep on like this, could he?

"Whether it's the same person or not, who'd know?" Ron mumbled. Once again, he was struck. "Ow! Goddammit 'Mione, fucking quit hittin' me!"

"Shut up, Ron!" Hermione hissed at him.

"I have to see her." Maisie whispered, in emotional pain. Fleur, her only friend had been attacked just minutes after she last saw her! That person, whoever it was, Crouch or not, could have followed them after they left the Carriage!

"Absolutely. 100%." Harry agreed with her instantly. "Tomorrow morning. After the grounds are cleared by the Professors."

She began to protest. "No, I have to see her now! What if she's―?"

"Professor Dumbledore checked her over. She's fine, not even shaken up. I saw her myself, she's more pissed than anything. And she'll probably even more pissed if you left here and went out onto the grounds with some madman walking around." He said, almost sternly. It didn't make her feel subdued, it only made her go silent with the magnitude of her thoughts. His hands were hot on her skin. Maybe if she pulled up her nightdress, there'd be red marks where his hands had been. Maisie lowered her eyes, staring at Harry's more brilliantly colored forest ones.

"Maybe―if someone came _with_ me―"

He shook his head. He had ridiculous hair. It was all over the place, like a black cat had gotten extremely frightened of something. "No. You're staying right here on this couch until breakfast in the morning."

Maisie's breathing hitched at the orders he was giving her and only nodded briefly in acknowledgement, knowing if she tried to make a break for it, he'd be able to put a stop to her without even blinking, and remained sitting before him. "5:30 in the morning." She attempted.

"I'll walk with you, then." He promised.

"Fine." She agreed reluctantly.

And they did just that. Harry kept Maisie right there on that couch, fetched his blanket and pillow for her from his bed, and made sure she slept through the night while he quietly spoke to Ron and Hermione about Mr. Crouch and what he had seen in the Forbidden Forest. Even after Hermione and Ron left to their respective staircases, he stayed in front of the couch. It was good that he did too, because he could tell that she was awake, shifting underneath his blanket there. She had been hoping for him to leave too so she could leave the Common Room.

Before daybreak, Maisie got up and left into the girls' dormitory to dress for the school day. She took care to fix her eyebrows and the dark circles underneath her eyes (a punishment for her lack of sleep) so that Fleur would see them and hurried back down the stairs to where Harry was still sleeping on the carpet in front of the couch.

"Harry!" She whisper-yelled at him. It was still dark, the sun hadn't even begun to rise yet. Maisie touched his arm and shook him awake. His skin heated her palm and aroused her.

Harry blinked his eyes open and stared up at her.

"I-I have to see Fleur." She reminded him. He blinked his eyes wearily before nodding and getting up from his makeshift bed.

He looked handsome, even with circles under his eyes and his black hair swept over his forehead (and in every direction.) Harry pulled on his shoes and his cloak, his sweatshirt awkwardly folded around his ribs, revealing his stomach for a moment before it fell back down with his rise. If she was more awake and less worried for her friend, maybe she would have flushed.

"C'mon then." Harry said to her, taking out his wand and lighting the tip with a 'Lumos'. Maisie followed with her own wand.

His hand was very close to hers on the long trek down the many staircases and past the still-empty Great Hall. They both yawned occasionally as they made the trip, but the entire time, they never strayed more than a few inches away from the other, like they _couldn't_ move away.

The sun began to raise when they passed by the forest and to the Beauxbatons carriage, which remained parked next to Hagrid's hut.

"Thank you." Maisie said to him softly, putting her wand away in her skirt pocket. He just shrugged before putting his hand on her shoulder, which warmed her stomach. He squeezed her gently, reminded her about their Divination homework later that day, then turned around and left her at the door to the Carriage.

/~/

"Tell me again."

"I 'ave already told you everything!" Fleur insisted, frustrated.

"Humor me. Again." Maisie said.

Fleur huffed and her eyes flashed. "I was walking away from ze Maze. I was passing by the forest, and someone grabbed me from ze side. Zhey stunned me. Hit me when I fell. Zhen I woke up. Dumblydoor and Moody removed ze stun. _Zhat's all!_ " She snapped, irritated and upset with this constant repeating.

"You promise?"

"Oui!"

"Absolutely?"

Fleur let out an annoyed huff of indignation, getting up from her mattress to pace once again. She ran her hand through her tangled, blonde hair as she tried not to let her anger overwhelm her. She had been sleeping fitfully all night after being dragged away from the scene of the 'crime' by her Headmistress. The outrage and shouts of her and Karkaroff towards Dumbledore and the Auror Moody were so dramatic that they'd kept her up, repeating over and over again. Then, when she'd finally fallen, she was awoken by Maisie climbing into her bed, her lithe form shaking with her little gasps and cries. "Are you okay? Are you okay? Fleur, please..." She'd whimpered into her ear.

Somehow, that sensitive girl who'd slipped into her bed disappeared and their conversation grew to be frantic, then panicked, to finally shouts and upset yelling.

"I'm sorry." Maisie then muttered, looking as exhausted as Fleur felt. She slumped back onto the desk chair. "I'm just... I'm worried, y'know? I mean, the person who stunned you. They... They could have done way worse to you." The implication there was obvious and the blonde understood that. If their roles were reversed, Fleur wouldn't leave her side for weeks. The horrible, horrible _possibilities_ were enough to raise the fair, blonde hair on the back of her neck. "And they haven't even found them! Barty Crouch is missing..." She said, looking weepy.

"Zhey steel 'aven't found him yet?"

"No. He's not anywhere on the Grounds. Harry said they were going to check Hogsmeade too, but I don't think whoever did this would linger in the area very long." Maisie said.

Fleur didn't like that she was using the boy's first name. Instead of speaking on it, she put on her shoes, the lids of her eyes heavy. "You need to eat." She told her, dully.

She didn't even argue.

When the first class of the day started, Maisie desperately wanted to skip it. Binns was dreadfully dead and boring, droning on in a low tone of voice that sounded like he was groaning the whole time. The Gryffindor student numbly went through her school routine, jotting down notes without even noticing what the words the Professor was using, or what they meant. She just wrote them.

In Divination, she felt like death. Her eyes pained her, even in the extremely dark room. She sat in the back, so she wouldn't be seen not paying attention to the lesson. Trelawney kept going on and on about planets, which Maisie couldn't care less about. How could she afford to care about the planetary system when Fleur was in danger? It terrified her.

The next few days she was in this strange state of terror infused exhaustion. It got to the point where Professor Snape saw her staring blankly ahead at the room and had to shake her shoulder several times until she blinked out of it. He looked bored and irritated, taking five points from Gryffindor and ordering her to the Hospital Wing ( _'If you can't pay attention in my class, you aren't **allowed** in my class, Miss Martin-Moors.'_ ) She wasn't even affected by possibly being barred from her Potions class until Morgana knows when.

"Martin-Moors." A gravelly voice said after her latest Defense class, where she had been vaguely been paying attention to where they were practicing various jinxes on each other and the spells to use on how to block them. "Stay after."

Maisie paused in her packing, feeling another scolding coming on, the third one in the past couple of days.

"Yessir." She said timidly, unsurprised. The rest of the students filed out without even noticing that she remained, likely not even knowing that she had been in class with them in the first place.

Moody narrowed his one human eye at her (the other swerved inside of it's socket, up and down her person, an act that she had grown to be used to in the past few months) and grabbed one of the chairs from the front desk, putting it in front of the chalkboard. "Sit, lass." He told her. Maisie nodded and obeyed, pushing her skirt over her knees as she sat. She forgot to put on socks or stockings today.

Her Professor leaned down to look at her. "Your friend. Delacour. She's alright, after what happened?" He asked.

She nodded. Fleur was alright, like she hadn't been affected by the attack at all. Maisie was feeling the brunt of the emotional punch for the both of them. "Yes sir."

Undeterred, Moody continued. "And you?"

"I'm coping, Professor." She answered. He looked displeased by her response.

"Lass, snap out of it." He practically growled. "Your friend is fine. You are fine. You acting like someone murdered yer dog is not Gryffindor behavior!"

Maisie started. "Sir, it could have been so much worse―!"

"Yes it could." He interrupted her. "But it wasn't. The fact of the matter is, this happening has made you scared. You're using your fear wrong, you don't break down once someone threatens your world, you FIGHT BACK!" Moody snapped, smacking his fist down on the desk. "This is only the beginning, lass. You aren't a little girl anymore. You can bet that Miss Delacour knows that. She wouldn't be in the Tournament if she didn't, I promise you that." He huffed, leaning back against his desk heavily, smacking his hand on his lap.

"Understand me?" He asked almost threateningly.

Maisie gulped and straightened up in the chair. "I do, sir..."

"Good. Get to lunch now, before you miss it."

"Absolutely, sir."

* * *

 **sTILL ALITTLE SHORT, BUT AHHHGRTHGWORHGOW**

 **R &R**


	23. Chapter 23

**thanks AvalonTheLadyKiller, KiariSohma and Individual Narrative for reviewing the last chapter!**

 **Getting there, GETTING THERE YOU GUYS I SWEAR - it was necessary for it to be this long - i like long things, so i made it long, im pretty satisfied with these literal 22 chapters full of SET UP FOR THE ACTUAL PLOT (this story is for me after all)**

 **(and i keep leaving in scary notes randomly in chapters, i should start calling them 'horror eggs', cause that sounds p badass)**

 **Also thank you for the 200+ of you who have followed this story, it really means a lot to me!**

* * *

 **June, 1995**

 **Hogwarts Castle, Scotland**

 _ **Gone Black**_

* * *

"Sir? You wanted to see me?" The disdain was masked in her voice completely. Maisie tried to keep her eyes away from Professor Dumbledore's, half-sure that he could read her mind (which was why it was quite blank at the moment, without even memories in her head.)

The old man leaned against the front of his desk, his fingers entangled together on his lap. "Yes I did, Miss Martin-Moors. Please, take a seat." He said, taking out his old looking wand and a quill. He transfigured the quill into a pink, polkadot armchair and gestured to it. Maisie nodded respectfully before walking over to the hideous chair, smoothing her skirt down over her bottom to sit upon it. Her ankles crossed and she put down her bag at her feet, her inkwell clinging gently against the box of blue quills inside. When Maisie had no choice but to look at the Headmaster, she stared at the orchid piece that he had that was tying his white beard in the middle.

"What was this about, exactly?" She then asked, when she found it was the most polite way to get straight to whatever point he wanted to get across.

The Headmaster seemed to have quite the different idea. He'd excused her from Divination, so it wasn't like she was in a hurry. He got up from where he was against his desk and picked up a purple tea pot. "I understand you're quite the conniseur of tea, am I right?" He asked idly as he raised up the equally vibrant teacup, pouring the hot liquid. From where she sat, it looked to be plain English Breakfast. Fine with sugar and cream, a slice of lemon or plain by itself. She preferred hers as plain as could be.

"I'm not certain that 'conniseur' is the right word, but yes sir." Maisie replied. The very much older wizard placed the cup on its saucer and placed a biscuit on the side. He moved his hand out, and the saucer with its tea cup floated over to her, the steam rising up out of the cup barely moving as it traveled to her. It was the perfect cup of tea to her eyes, yet she did not drink it yet.

"And what do you think of this brew? A dear penpal of mine sent it to me yesterday morning at breakfast, and I've been eager for a second opinion. Professor McGonagall had no such time to dally with my novice interests earlier today, I'm afraid. Too busy." He said with a smile, looking amused. He took a drink of his own tea, his white mustache ending up inside of the hot liquid.

Finding she had no other choice, she raised her teacup up and sipped it. It wasn't just English Breakfast. It was black tea, but not so strong. It was lighter, in a more vanilla bean accented way. It was pleasant, but it wasn't from Great Britain, certainly. "This type of tea I would put a spot of cream. It's sweet enough on it's own that it doesn't need sugar." Maisie said, lowering her hand with the cup to settle it back. Professor Dumbledore hummed with agreement.

"Cream then." The small jug poured in a light splash of the milk.

"How are your classes going, Miss Martin-Moors?" He asked her then.

Sensing the game he was playing, the witch tightened her grasp on her teacup. "Well, sir." She replied a bit shortly.

Dumbledore didn't seem to notice. "And how about outside of the classroom? Has Miss Delacour been preparing herself for the Final Task?" He questioned. Bringing Fleur up in conversation only made her stiffen. What he had hinted at on the train just before she left for Easter holidays frightened her. The old wizard hadn't suggested that it were something shameful or anything of the sort, but the fact that he knew and had power over her made her furious. She hated him for this.

"Yes, she has. She's been practicing hexes nonstop for days."

"Excellent. And... Mr. Potter. Do you know how he has been faring?" That question almost made her spill her tea.

"Potter? I-I wouldn't know about him, sir. Why not ask after Granger or Weasley?" That stutter made her want to direct her wand to her own throat and take her voice away.

"I'm afraid Mr. Potter has given you away, Miss Martin-Moors." Dumbledore said lightly, voice a touch amused. It made her burn with resentment, which hopefully didn't display itself on her face. "I'm an old man with a lot of time on his hands. I can't help but be curious." Maisie frowned and leaned back in the chair, carefully avoiding his gaze by glaring into her teacup where the tea had gone cold.

The growing feeling of a getting a headache kept her from planning to kick Potter in the shin later. The exact details were quite fuzzy to her.

"Miss Martin-Moors, your wand." The tip of her willow wand was pointed at him. Or, it was, until it was taken from her. She was on the ground now, why was she there? Dumbledore put her there. The floor was cold. Wormtail's screaming of agony was loud and annoying. Why didn't he just kill him, even if he had assisted him? Surely he was enough of a pain to be around that death was warranted? It occurred to her that perhaps if she gave him enough reason, he'd end the cretin's little life. What could she do though? Ask? Trick the man into doing something terrible, then reap the benefits?

Uncertain and confused, Maisie blinked and the vision was gone. She wasn't on the floor anymore either, she was once again in the chair in Dumbledore's office. And all of the calm that she'd had was gone faster than the vision.

"What just happened to me?" She whimpered, grasping at the two arms in front of her. One was Dumbledore's, it was his sleeve. The other was Snape's. He was moving his wand up and down over her head, doing something, some kind of check, but she barely registered it as important. Her overwhelming panic and the clenching feeling in her chest was the main sensation she worried over. "Professors!?" Maisie almost squealed in her own terror. It was an annoying sound, and she thought it was stupid that it came out of her face.

"You fainted." Snape told her plainly. He stopped his wand movements. Her hand was still clutching both of their sleeves like they were lifelines.

"I fainted?" Maisie repeated questionably. Dumbledore nodded.

She released them, pulling her arms to her chest and shrinking down in the armchair like she had just been wounded.

"Severus, fetch Madam Pomfrey."

/~/

The Matron seemed to think that more prodding and waving of her wand was warranted, despite Professor Snape having done just that only minutes beforehand. She had her moved to the Hospital Wing (Maisie had to fight her on being carried or hovered there, imagine being carried through the Hall right in the middle of class time with dozens of foreigners and puny eleven year-olds stumbling through that same hallway) and confiscated her wand. She felt the loss the minute it left her person. More so than that, Maisie felt so much more powerless without it.

"Drink up." She said, handing her a vial of Headache Cure.

She obeyed, despite the pain that had been radiating in her skull having vanished like it was never there in the first place.

Then, Pomfrey handed her a hot cup. It smelled like chocolate. "Go on, now."

Before she could even raise it up to her lips, the doors to the Hospital Wing flew open and banged against the walls. Maisie cowered into the bed, attempting to shrink and become apart of the cheap, paper-like sheets. Unfortunately, she was horrid at Transfiguration. Maybe she should try harder, then she might be able to hide away from the raging blonde that had come to give her the low-down.

"Why is it that I always see you in 'ere?" Fleur asked her in a chilly tone. She looked only half put together, like she had been in the middle of dressing when she found out that she was once again in the Hospital Wing. "'erhaps you should move IN **_eef_** you love it so much!" Her words had become thicker and harder to understand. Fleur threw out her hands to exaggerate her motions. Maisie lowered her eyes and took a hesitant drink from the hot chocolate in her hands.

"Hi Fleur." She murmured.

"Salut." The blonde returned, choosing to stand rather than sit in the chair that sat next to the hospital bed. Her hands were settled on her hips and she was still glaring at her. "'ell? Are you going to explain yourself?" She asked her.

"According to Pomfrey, I had an... _Episode_." Maisie didn't the word, but it was better than saying that she 'freaked the fuck out when she had a weirdo vision.' She wasn't sure if Fleur knew completely about what was happening to her. She'd never told her the details of it (imagine what Fleur would do if she found out that she was having dreams about not-He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and was apparently sharing these dreams with Harry Potter) but Maisie thought that she had a way of knowing that not everything was quite well. Maybe it was an extra sense that came with her Veela genes, she didn't know. Fleur was far too sensitive to these sorts of things.

Fleur narrowed her eyes, and they flashed in the light. "Episode?"

"Yeah."

"A _divination_ episode?"

Maisie shrank further into the blankets, pulling the warm up to her face so it pressed up against her mouth and chin.

Fleur moved closer and sat on the bed near her legs. The Gryffindor girl peaked up at her from behind the cup, noticing the way Fleur's blonde tendrils of hair framed her face when it was up in a very messy looking bun, tied with a silky looking scarf. "Tell me about it." She requested, her hand moving and settling on her leg since Maisie was persistent on keeping the warm mug of chocolate up to her face like it was a security blanket.

"It wasn't―Not like how Trelawney always goes on about it..." She started to softly babble, reaching her hand up to grasp at her bangs.

Concerned, Fleur, reached out and took her wrist, as if she thought that Maisie was going to start pulling her own hair out. "Stop." She lowered their hands to the bed. "Do you know what it was about?" She asked. "What was happening in the vision?"

A small level of protective panic rose in her chest. She knew it wasn't right to lie to her. But she wanted... to keep these dreams somehow. They never terrified her. Never scared her. Even when she saw someone being tortured with an Unforgivable Curse, it didn't shake her for a second. She felt _safe_ in those dreams, like she was being held by the most comfortable arms. It was like no one could ever hurt her, she was being loved and cared for the most powerful person in the world. "It was just... Blurs. I―I felt scared though. When I came to, I was pointing my wand at the Professors. I guess I thought, well, that they were creatures or something." Maisie muttered.

"Was it a premonition?" Fleur asked then, turning with a curious expression on her striking face.

She shrugged her shoulders, lowering the mug of chocolate. "I don't know what it was." She answered honestly.

/~/

"Are you sure you're ready for tonight?" Maisie asked for perhaps the thirtieeth time that day. And it was barely 7 o'clock.

"Yes, I am. You saw zhat bush after I was done with it." Fleur said, not surprised with her continuous asking. It seemed to be a trait of Maisie to worry over her again and again until the end of time.

"I know. I'm just worried about this Task. Each one is supposed to be extremely strenuous and you got attacked last time!" Maisie exclaimed, her shoulder strap falling down her arm.

"I 'ave been attacked every time." Fleur corrected her, slowing their trek to the Great Hall to an extremely slow trod. It was early and they had chosen an almost completely empty way to breakfast. They wanted to continue their conversation before they had to eat and meet up with the visiting families. She gently grasped Maisie's small shoulder, pulling the girl to face her. "I know what to expect from this Tournament. I need only _touch_ the Cup, May-sea. And I'll be Champion." The sheer amount of pride and eagerness in Fleur's voice about competing was immense. It had nothing on the ambitious sheen in her dark blue eyes, which made Maisie want to look away from her.

"I know that, but if to say that you don't―" She started with a bit of a stutter in her speech, her brows furrowing in concern.

Fleur silenced her with her fingertips over her mouth, getting very close to the girl who had spurted up that year and who was now the same height as she was at a strong 5'7.

Flustered and in a gut-tightening sort of nervous, Maisie took a few steps to back away, but the French witch only followed her. "I am going to win this Tournament for you, May-sea." Fleur assured her with such confidence in her smile that it made her blush. That same European arrogance that she displayed constantly (and consistently irked her with) was suddenly extremely attractive to her and she tightened the muscles in her legs when the unexpected arousal took her off-guard.

When her back hit the stone wall, the early morning chill of it shocked her and made her arms flinch outwards.

Fleur was only inches from her now, and Maisie didn't even have the time to marvel over the way the morning sunlight shined through her hair, because in a split second decision, she decided it was a great fucking idea to lurch forward and close the space between them. If the other witch was surprised, she didn't show it, because mere seconds after she pressed her lips to hers, Fleur had taken the lead. Blood began pumping through her veins quickly and she was sure that her face was red.

Her hands slid up, resting on her neck, trying to pull her closer while at the same time trying to respond in tune to Fleur's lips. She felt warm fingertips brush against her cheek and she actually whimpered with pleasure into Fleur's mouth. The older girl chuckled lightly in response to it, pulling their lips apart to begin kissing her burning cheek and down the side of her neck, which made Maisie gasp when she suddenly bit down on her skin.

"Fleur! M-marks, p-please don't―!" She began to stutter nervously, flashing her eyes open and grasping onto her arms for support, which felt very solid and strong to her.

"Shush shush." Fleur hushed her, pulling her body against hers boldly, about to continue her sensual assault on the girl's throat when the clearing of someone's throat interrupted her, causing the veela extreme annoyance. She was just about to mark _her_ girl and someone dared to interrupt her?!

" _Go away, Krum._ " She practically snarled, though it was in such a mellow tone.

The large boy only rolled his eyes and pushed his hands into his front pockets. "Our families 'ave come to see us. They are in zuh hall in front of us. Must you make your display now?" He asked lowly, raising a large, bushy eyebrow at them. Viktor was just exasperated for them to be doing this when their parents were lingering around the Castle? Maisie ducked down and out of Fleur's hold, almost tripping on her own laces in the process, because of course she couldn't take three steps without almost paralyzing herself.

Fleur straightened and tilted her chin upwards in a very arrogant and chic way that seemed to always be in her deck of cards should she need it. "We will be along." She emphasized the clearly British tone she spoke in.

Viktor didn't particularly care whether Fleur followed after him or not, so he granted a nod to her and her slighter, female companion who brushed her hair behind her ear hastily before he continued on his way, wondering if Hermione wanted to sit with him later in the school's library.

Only once Viktor had left them did other students appear from the courtyard entrance to the Great Hall, like he had let in the swarm with his mere arrival (his gang of giggling admirers were never that far behind, much like Roger Davies was from Fleur, though even he was quite little and far in-between these days. Maisie heard that he'd been having terrible back pains from the girls in the Ravenclaw House when she was having lunch one day, overhearing their conversation from the Gryffindor Table.) Fleur touched her shoulder, her long fingers moving towards her hair, pulling it out to cover where her lips had been pressing against the sensitive skin on her throat.

"You 'ave a paste, correct?" She inquired casually as her fingers continued to sweep over Maisie's youthful face. The feeling of her fingertips was cool and smooth, and the sensation reminded her of how earlier they had been digging pleasantly into her back. With a delicate flush of her face, the younger girl nodded and hunched her shoulders up, grasping her shirt where it laid over her elbows.

Fleur's Mother was a gorgeous woman. Tall and statuesque with shining (and greying) blonde hair that was curled immaculately into a knot on the back of her head, she looked exactly like Maisie thought Fleur's mother would look.

Her Father on the other hand, was so greatly opposite his beautiful wife, that it almost looked strange. But the longing and adoration in the couple's eyes for each other was quite unmistakeable. He was an inch shorter than Maisie was, but he was much taller than his youngest daughter, Gabrielle, who was already far more pretty than the Gryffindor could ever hope to be. The introductions between her and Fleur's family consisted of chatters in french, heavily **_heavily_ ** accented English (Fleur's sounded divine compared to theirs) and several kisses to Maisie's cheeks.

Monsieur Delacour was warm, a bit rounded and had the remnants of being a charmer in his face, which showed in his smile.

Madame Delacour had taken her hand and smelled like expensive, light perfume. Maybe she produced it on her own through body sweat? Maisie wasn't sure, maybe she'd ask Fleur before the Final Task, if she could grab hold of her. The language barrier between herself and Fleur's parents was too much of a hurdle for her to ask straight out.

Maisie took a very small half-step back when Fleur began to speak happily with her parents. She felt like she were intruding on a family moment, especially when she pulled Gabrielle in for a warm embrace, muttering to her in french.

Using this as a chance to extend her glance around the room to search out Viktor and his parents, she turned her head away. She spotted him nearby, with his dark-haired parents. His Mother was a very small, petite woman compared to his Father. Both her son and her husband towered over her, though it was clear by the slight lines of age on her face that she was no pushover. Maisie didn't restrain her smile when she saw the little woman reach up and brush some debris off of her son's shoulder before grasping of the short dark beard that was growing on Viktor's chin. Her son looked embarrassed.

Looking the other way, giving Viktor some humility, she saw Cedric Diggory standing with his parents. They were talking with Harry, who was surrounded by what looked like the entire Weasley clan. Including Percy Weasley.

Her so-called suitor. That she'd refused via letter. Though maybe she hadn't been clear enough?

She hadn't seen him since the Yule Ball, so she wasn't sure if she could judge, but he looked _vastly_ different. He wore a nice, dark blue suit that looked tailored. His hair was combed back so smoothly that he could be mistaken for a broom salesman, and he had different glasses on than the horn-rimmed ones that he always wore in school. Maisie was gawping at him so obviously that it seemed he'd noticed her (when had people began to notice her anyway? Why was it that only when she didn't want to be seen, that she was seen? Was it her own luck?) To her absolute dread, he straightened his sleeves and began to walk towards her.

Maisie turned her back to him in a way that was horridly rude (how will she ever forgive herself?) and grasped the back of Fleur's silky dress like she were her lifeline, struggling to keep her face blank.

Someone―Mr. Weasley―gently tapped her on the shoulder. The Gryffindor girl remained stiff and unwilling to face him, especially when he cleared his throat. But with that sound of his catching Fleur's attention, she had no choice but to turn around and greet him. Percy Weasley was taller than she and Fleur, though he wasn't much larger in terms of bulkiness.

"Good morning, Mairead." Weasley said to her, tilting his head down, not quite in a bow. He was trying to play the proper pureblood, she realized, spotting the black, leather gloves on his hands. He looked like a parody of an actual pureblood. The way her Mother's cousin had greeted her in Kings Cross was drenched in cool, aristocratic arrogance that showed how comfortable the man was in his position. The way this boy was greeting her was incomplete, inadequate and awkward looking. And she detested him slightly for his display in front of Fleur's parents.

"Mr. Weasley." She returned, though it wasn't as clipped as she'd intended. If Weasley was unsettled being in front of Fleur's family, he didn't show it. He didn't even look bothered by her use of his last name, in fact he seemed to revel in the respectful tone. Or what sounded like respect.

He adjusted his glasses. "I apologize for approaching you. I wanted to speak with you alone while I was here in the Castle. I felt it was better than over owls, you understand?" Weasley mentioned, stressing 'alone', though not offering a glance towards Fleur. She was glaring at him, an intense sheen of dislike in her eyes.

Maisie did not want to be alone with this boy, but couldn't muster up any good reason why she could say no. Slowly, as she wanted to linger, she gave a very small, though appropriate, curtsey to Fleur's parents and sister and turned to walk with him.

"What are you doing here?" She asked him bluntly.

He straightened. "I was invited here, by Dumbledore. I'll be watching the Task tonight." He was restrained now, which Maisie preferred. His face had a frown on it.

"I see." She murmured, looking past his shoulder where the other members of the Weasley clan were speaking with Harry. He glanced only twice at her as he spoke with them. He'd noticed her walking away with the third son.

"Truthfully―I came here to speak to you. I realize that you've refused my proposal, but I thought that perhaps you'd reconsider." Weasley attempted to touch her forearm. She avoided it, her lips pursed in a sour expression.

"Why should I reconsider?"

"I think we would make good partners." He started, but she didn't really want to hear his reasons.

"Your letter told me everything that I want to know about you, Mr. Weasley. And I'm afraid that my Father does not approve of you. If you insist on changing my answer, I suggest that you take it up with him." Maisie cut him off in a show of strength that she'd never possessed before. She tilted her chin up to stare at him, confident that her Father's answer would be a resounding 'bloody fucking no' to this man-boy, so she was comfortable telling him so.

Weasley's eyes hardened at the quietly firm attack on him by the younger girl. He'd tried very hard to appropriately court her. He'd bought a new suit, fixed his hair back. Studied dutifully the ways of pureblooded-ness that Mairead was apart of. It was a mistake to come to the Castle and continue his attempt. He should have accepted her answer when he got her reply months ago. "Very well. I shall." It would not be good to have a courtship with a girl who was upset with him, but he couldn't accept this refusal so easily, could he? "She is a very lucky woman."

Then, he left her. It was abrupt and odd and felt like he had punched her in the gut rather than give her a nod of his head.

It was time to go to History of Magic. But then, why would she want to go there? Sure, it was time for exams, but even ghostly Binns didn't notice when she slipped in the door a few minutes late.

Without saying good-bye to Fleur, she stumbled out of the Hall and into the History classroom. In a lightheaded daze, she took her History exam without particularly thinking on it. Troll and goblin wars... Did those matter? Goblins and trolls were very foul. The Goblins that kept Gringotts always sneered at her and were amused by her jumpiness. _Maybe_ they were amused. Maisie didn't know what amusement looked like on those smaller, pointed faces, but if she was to guess, their wide, sharp smiles meant they were having a grand ol' time.

Walking out of History of Magic, her bag sliding along the floor as she dragged it to lunch, her air of distraction and cloudiness faded enough to realize that Percy Weasley had threatened her.

Without stopping her thought, she reached into her bag and pulled out a headache cure from her bag, downing it while thinking on how she'd ambush the boy so she'd be able to steal the memory from him. She'd never used the spell before, but it couldn't hurt to try, right? Well, it wouldn't hurt _her_. Thinking on the easiest time to jump him didn't even phase her, because now it was also Fleur that was in danger. It was her turn to protect her. She needed to keep Fleur safe, above her. She'd happily drown as long as Fleur didn't so much as get her shoes wet.

Her next two exams were breezed through, and before she knew it, she was preparing to go down to see the Final Task. And to hex Percy Weasley, but to her those were simply details.

Going down the corridor, her steps made little 'clacks'. She'd dressed in a blouse that wasn't hers, but one that Fleur liked the look of on her and a summer-y skirt. Her wand was in her pocket. Her hair was up.

She could hear the sound of cheers of people in the stands as she took the trail up towards the Quidditch pitch. It was loud, so she didn't hear someone large come up behind her and proceed to stun her.

* * *

 **I personally really like this chapter**

 **Remember to review, you guys! I appreciate all of your support!**


	24. Chapter 24

**THANKS to Starfish, Lady Ravanna, Guest, Starswim, Madhatter . of . hearts, Lizzy B, Chocoholics Unite, LOPE,** **Akatsuki fan girl 4ever,** **AvalonTheLadyKiller and HeartlessVampireGirl for reviewing since the last chapter!**

 **this is what you've aaall been waiting for**

 **since like,** **chapter one**

 **23 chapters later, Voldemort's finally an actual presence you guysss.** **also happy Halloween, because the second it was October, it was Halloween to me.**

* * *

 **June, 1995**

 **The Little Hangleton Graveyard, England ― Hogwarts Castle, Scotland**

 _ **The Red-Eyed Man**_

* * *

 _Drown! Drown, let that thing die in there!_ Harry was desperately thinking, mouth open in horror as Wormtail put the creature inside of the gigantic pewter cauldron.

He couldn't see that well, the steam from the cauldron clouding his glasses. Though he couldn't see through the steam, he knew that the creature hadn't died inside of the cauldron. The spell, whatever Wormtail had done, had worked. He knew, because he could feel it in the marrow of his bones that **something** had happened inside of it. Harry wanted to turn his head, to look over where he knew Cedric was laying. Unmoving forever, eyes empty and staring at the sky. But he couldn't. He was frozen there, staring through the steam intently.

It felt as if icy hands had reached inside of his body and began to tightly squeeze at his insides.

The tall, skinny form of a man began to raise up and out of the cauldron. With sickening fascination, he watched as it grew hands, legs and fingers. A face developed, skin growing as it got taller. It's face was snakelike and pointed and violently red eyes gleamed out from the dark sockets on it. The remnants of the fire that was underneath the cauldron, which had been burning down to embers, suddenly rose up to full flame in an explosion when it now stood in the middle of the cauldron water, an expression of calm and boredom on it's face.

The explosion of flame burned the side of Harry's face. He flinched at it.

" _Robe me._ " The low hiss had a strange, ethereal echo to it that made it all the more obvious that he did not belong to the category of 'human'. Humans did not look like he did, nor did they raise out of cauldrons like a demon.

Wormtail's whimpering skipped and he hurried to do as his Master commanded, his singular hand making the act that much more difficult.

Voldemort seemed rather enthralled by the sight of his own body. He raised up each hand, carefully looking over the front and the back of them. Observing their strength, their color and texture. He tightened them each into fists before relaxing them, examining the muscles underneath his new skin. Harry almost thought that he would have cut open his skin to see what the muscle looked like for himself.

Instead, he took out a wand with those unnaturally long-fingered hands. It was as bone-white as he was. He caressed it like he had caressed his own skin, with care and a gleam of adoration.

Wormtail was sobbing, clutching his bleeding stump of an arm. Voldemort cruelly grasped his arm and pressed the tip of his wand to the dark red tattoo on his forearm. It turned black, like india ink, instantly. Like it had always been black. The disgusting man continued his weeping for his Master.

"It is back." He gently said to himself. "All will notice it... We shall see who will _heed_ it's call."

The frightening sound of his voice made Harry cringe inwardly, the muscles in his limbs tensing, like he could rip himself from the stone that had him pinned there. The agonizing pain in his forehead had nothing on the desperate need to be _away_ from this place.

He was addressed by Voldemort then. The unconcerned expression on the man's face more intimidating than the wand in his hand.

"Mister Harry Potter. You've grown since we last met." He commented, wistfully. "I hear you have become almost as legendary as I, these days." Voldemort began to pace in front of him, slowly.

Harry said nothing.

"How are you?" He added, sounding amused.

"Grand." Harry said, after swallowing the lump in his throat.

Voldemort grinned slightly. "Grand." He repeated, making Harry feel as if he was going to be sick. "Where is it you stay now? London?" He looked along the rows of gravestones, looking the part of a cat with his eyes as the way they were. His robes glided over the grass.

"Around there." His voice skipped slightly. Talking to the face that had haunted him for the past three years like... Like they were having tea and crumpets for brunch, unnerved him.

"Do you wish to hazard a guess, Harry, on where we are?" The Dark Lord asked him, looking off, past the gravestones, towards the large house that was shadowing them from the moon and stars light. Distaste came to his snake-like face. Then, he looked back to Harry. He hadn't expected any answer from him. "This is where my Father lived." He said. Then, he looked pointedly down at the grave he was tied to. "There you stand, atop his final resting place, with my Grandparents." Voldemort began to pace again.

"Foolish muggles. True, they were useful to me, but I would have preferred them to be as dead as they are now." He said, conversationally. Then, he gave a partial smile, gazing up at a deep, dark spot that had arrived in the sky, blotting out the moon and removing any real light to the area. From it, several lines of thick smoke began to emerge.

"Ah, look there, Harry! My true family has returned to me." He murmured to him before passing by him.

There were maybe a dozen cloaked and masked figures. They all gathered in a circle, with odd spacings between them, like there were missing pieces to the set. All in black, they stood imposing figures, with black hoods over their hair and sparkling, metallic masks over their faces, some like silver and white gold, while others looked to be plain steel. Each of them seemed to collapse on themselves in order to bow on their hands and knees. There was no wind, yet there was a collective shiver from all of the Death Eaters.

"Welcome, gentle wizards and witches." He spoke, looking around at all of them. "It has been thirteen years since we last spoke. And yet, you all stand before me like it was yesterday... We are all connected, aren't we? By the Dark Mark on your left arms... Am I _correct_?" His voice grew darker and darker, more and more hauntingly echoed in his presence as he continued speaking to the Death Eaters. "Your filthy guilt fills the air before me." There was a second shiver. There was still no wind nor breeze.

"Such promptness of your arrival... I must ask myself, with each of you so strong and healthy―How is it that none of you attempted to search me out, when each of you had promised your eternal devotion to me over the devotion to your partners and children?" His haunting voice's threat kept each person dead silent―Except that of Wormtail, whose croaking sobs continued gently as he cowered against one of the stone nameplates on the grass. His arm had yet to clot and stop the bleeding of his stump. "I will answer this myself... You thought me gone from this life. This world. You played on bewitchment and curses. Pleaded your innocence. How is it they believed me gone, when they, my dearest family, knew what I had done to keep myself from falling to man's greatest enemy? I thought of this, of you, my followers. All of you had seen my might. Yet you believed I could be vanquished. Yet you announced your allegiances to another man, that champion of Blood-traitors, _Albus Dumbledore_."

Each of the Death Eaters stirred, muttering their negative views when Dumbledore's name echoed from their Master's mouth in such a horrifying way.

Voldemort turned away, like he couldn't stand to look at them.

One of the Death Eaters began to screech, falling to his knees. "Master, please! Forgive us all! Please!"

Looking disappointed, the Dark Lord gently moved down to a crouch, grasping the man's arm in a comforting way. Then, he was pointing his wand at the man's chest plate. "I do forgive you." He said to him. Then, he said the torture curse, hitting the man and making him scream even louder in absolute agony. Harry looked around, intensely panicked, spotting a house in the distance, wishing for someone to hear the noise and at the same time hoping that nobody would. If they did and came to investigate, surely they'd be killed just like Cedric was.

It ended suddenly and the Death Eater was gasping, his hands in front of him, fingers turning like claws.

"On your feet, Avery. You have a long while before I forget your digressions." _Avery_ , Harry thought, trying to commit the name to memory. It was important that he knew who was there. "Wormtail." Voldemort murmured, turning to look at the sniveling man. "Raise your arm. I will show you what happens when you serve your Lord and Master."

A silver hand was conjured and it attached itself to Wormtail's stump. His sobbing stopped and his weepy, watery eyes suddenly dried.

Unconcerned with Wormtail's thanks and poor kissing of his robes, Voldemort turned to face one particular Death Eater. He got very close to him.

"Remove your mask, Lucius." He ordered him, simply. Malfoy obeyed, and Harry could only swallow back the blood in his mouth caused by him biting down on his own tongue. Draco Malfoy's father stood there in elegant robes, his silver mask removed from his face. He looked like there were glamours on his skin, because it wasn't the same as when he had last saw him. "Tell me, my smooth friend. How is Narcissa―and your boy, Draco?" Voldemort asked him.

"They have been raised with your values, my Lord." He replied tightly.

"Have they? I hear you keep a respectable reputation with the Ministry in my absence." He said silkily.

Lucius nodded his head, looking like his was trying to keep his composure. "I do, my Lord."

"Excellent. I look forward to hearing of your exploits at the World Cup. They were truly amusing, Lucius. And yet... You ran, when our shared mark of unity was displayed. Why is that, Lucius? Have your feelings towards your Master changed?" He asked, looking excited with the expression on Malfoy Senior's face. "Did you not want to find me, my friend?"

"My Lord―" He started, his eyes widening. "I was constantly searching for you. I was on alert for any suggestion or thought of your return. Nothing would have stopped me from rejoining you at your right side." He said passionately, porcelain features turning slightly red.

Voldemort looked bored. "I'm afraid my forgiveness will not be that easy for you, Lucius. I expect your _complete_ cooperation and faithful servitude in the next coming months."

Mr. Malfoy didn't look nervous, but Harry knew that he was.

The Dark Lord continued around his circle, addressing the gaps and the people who stood before him. He went on through Macnair, Crabbe, Goyle, Nott. Each name, Harry desperately committed to memory, just as he had with the spells he learned before the Final Task. _What good those are serving me now_ , he thought, too numb to be bitter. He stared at Malfoy, imagining Draco's face in it. Then he thought of Maisie's face. He hadn't really thought about her since Fleur had been attacked, too preoccupied with the Task, but now, somehow, he thought it was vastly important. What was happening now, it was important to think about the girl who couldn't even cast a Stinging jinx with any accuracy. What was going to happen to her? She was as frail as a newborn calf. And her cousins were Death Eaters. Because her cousins were Death Eaters, Voldemort would in turn be near her.

Harry's mouth turned sour.

/~/

When she woke, she couldn't move.

Her eyes remained closed, no matter how badly she wanted to open them. Her muscles strained themselves, trying desperately to move any part of her body, any at all. But they remained stiff as boards. Any dull feelings that coupled with her exhaustion was instantly gone, replaced by anxiety and terror at what could be happening to her. _Run, run, move! Get away!_ Her body screamed at her, yet it didn't obey her in the slightest. And that only heightened when the sound of someone approaching came to her ears. With it, came the smell of something _terribly_ familiar.

"I know you're awake." A voice said, one she didn't recognize. "And I know how you must be feeling right now." It was urgent in it's attempt at sincerity, but it fell on frightened, uncaring ears.

"You must be so scared, and I'm very sorry for this." The man, whoever he was, was getting _closer_ to her. "But I want you to know that you're safe and sound."

Maisie strained the muscles in her legs, willing them to move out of the curse she was in. She could hear his heavy, nasally breathing. And already, she was mourning herself. The loss of her life that was sure to follow this felt so absolutely close that the sound of her own heartbeat was almost masking the sound of footsteps. Specifically the metallic echo of footsteps. They were heavy and intimidating and if she could, she would have emptied her stomach just then. "You are, Mairead." He continued, voice getting deeper. "I know you don't believe me. I wouldn't either, if I were in your shoes. Waking up in a strange place, petrified, by an unseeable wizard? I know how you feel. _Believe_ me, I do." Her heart was in her throat, and she was worried that she'd choke.

"You're so special." Hot tears were leaking from her eyes down her cheeks. His breath cooled them and her insides could have been made of icicles. "Do you understand this, Mairead? You are crucial to him, in a way his most faithful Death Eaters never have been." He whispered.

Him? _HIM!?_

 _"Closer now, girl..."_

 _"...Mairead,_ nothing _is an coincidence."_

"Why does he want you?" The wizard asked. "You're untalented. Not very wise. You have not even finished your schooling. What is it about you that makes you so important to him?" He sounded confused. Maisie's gut clenched.

"You were a mere baby 13 years ago when he was at his highest. He couldn't have desired you... Why _you_?"

 _Yes, indeed. Why me?_ She thought, miserably. Her dreams, her 'visions' of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named... They were all real. Everything that had been coming to her all that school year. It wasn't all in her head, it wasn't fake. It had truly been him in her mind, giving her thoughts and dreams.

Fingers then touched along her left cheek, wiping away the warm tears there. "Don't worry, dear. I'm sure that when we see him tomorrow morning, the Dark Lord will shed some light on this for you." Then, she was lifted by a pair of rough, harsh feeling hands. The feeling of the wizard's hands on the back of her thighs was downright sickening to her. The worst part was that they felt _familiar_ to her somehow. They felt as if there were... chunks taken out from it, and then had been hurriedly healed over.

/~/

Harry felt as if someone had taken his organs and left the country with them.

He had been dragged away from Cedric's body by who he thought was Moody. Then, not-Moody had turned out to be an impostor who was going to kill him. Now, he was staring off in a dark corner of the Defense office that used to hold Lupin, Lockhart and Quirrel in the last three years. He couldn't quite breathe. He had to keep reminding his body to inhale and exhale, because that one spot in the corner was the only thing that he could really keep his attention on. Everything else was a mass of confusion.

Dumbledore had turned to Professors McGonagall and Snape and told them each to do something. To him, it sounded like he was talking from inside a pool of water. Snape and McGonagall left the room. Where were they going, Harry wasn't sure. His emotional capacity had shrunk drastically in the last 2 1/2 hours.

Then, Dumbledore told him to look at him, so Harry numbly turned his head and faced where Dumbledore was. He took out a set of keys and looked particularly at a trunk in not-Moody's office. He put each key on the ring in his hand in the locks, and with each unlocking, Harry was released further from his own numbness.

"Christ!" Harry exclaimed, stumbling over to the trunk. Inside of the trunk was a pit. It was dark and cold. At the bottom of the pit were two figures. One was Moody, in long underwear, without his false leg and a hole in his face where his fake, blue eye was meant to be. The other was Maisie. She was incredibly small looking next to Moody, gangly like a spider. "Maisie!" He gasped, clutching the side of the trunk before making to climb inside to fetch her since _oh my god she almost looked **dead, dead like Cedric**_ **,** but Dumbledore grabbed him by the arm and moved him away before he could.

"Harry, get the impostors cloak, they're both freezing cold." He told him before retrieving the two of them himself, looking grave and deeply serious, so Harry did what he told him to do. He roughly grabbed the cloak off of not-Moody.

Dumbledore transformed a large blanket, taking the body of Maisie out of the trunk first.

Immediately, Harry grasped her into his arms, before the Headmaster could even ask him to. The real Alastor Moody came out next, looking grizzled and rather horrifying. Maisie did feel absolutely freezing, so he clutched her to his chest, sinking to the floor. He wrapped her in the large blanket, pressing his blood-covered fingers against her long neck to check her pulse.

"She's alive, Harry." Dumbledore tried to assure him, but he ignored his words and instead kept checking her pulse. It was there, but it wasn't steady. It was beating rapidly, like she had been running.

"Sir―She's awake! She's been petrified!" He stuttered, wrapping his arm around the back of her neck and the other around her arms so she was half-laying on his lap. He was holding her very tightly, smearing the only partially dried blood on her fair skin and her dress.

"Indeed she has, Harry. Move back." Dumbledore muttered, looking concerned for Maisie, seeing now that her eyes were moving from underneath her eyelids. He used the counter curse on her.

When she came to again, the first thing she did was let out a horrendous cry. It was the only thing that her body seemed to want to do was sob with the frustration and hatred that she felt. Her hands reached up and clutched at her hair and she sank into herself, drawing her knees up to become a protective ball. The sorrow-filled cries were only smothered by her forearms, which she had pressed against her mouth to muffle herself. Harry touched her arms tentatively, which she allowed, trying to help her. She was letting out the same cries that he'd heard from Amos Diggory and his wife. He hugged her body gently, and Maisie turned to bury her face into his filthy shirt, digging her fingernails in his biceps.

Snape and McGonagall returned just in time to see who not-Moody was. Both Maisie and Harry had seen him before, in their dreams. Harry knew that Maisie had recognized him, because her grip on his clothing tightened.

"Crouch!" Snape said, grasping the side of the doorway, staring at the pale man laying on the ground. "Barty Crouch!"

"Good heavens." McGonagall exclaimed, clutching the front of her robes.

Behind Snape's legs was a small, disheveled looking Winky, and she let out a high-pitched shriek that made Maisie visibly jump back into the warmth of Harry's chest. Winky began to talk excitedly in that high pitched voice of hers, shouting and yelling while flinging herself on top of the wizard on the ground.

"Step aside, please, Winky. Severus, you have the potion?" Dumbledore asked the black-clad man. He was handed a small vial, which he fed three drops into the stunned man's mouth before _rennervate_ -ing him.

The story that the man, Barty Crouch Jr., began to tell was told in a drone. The hatred spoken of was real, but it was in as much of a drone as Professor Binns lectures.

"―And what did Lord Voldemort ask you to do?" Asked Dumbledore to Crouch. Maisie turned her head, her eyes still watering, to stare meanly at the man who spoke.

"He asked me whether I was ready to risk everything for him. I was ready, it was my dream to serve and prove myself to him. He told me that he needed a faithful servant at Hogwarts to guide Harry Potter through the Triwizard Tournament without appearing to do so. A servant who would watch over Harry Potter and ensure that he reached he Triwizard Cup. The cup would be a Portkey, which would take the first person to touch it to my Master." He continued to say.

"You needed Alastor Moody." Dumbledore said, calm but furious.

"Yes. Wormtail and I ambushed him. We prepared a Polyjuice potion and journeyed to his house."

"And what became of Wormtail after you attacked Moody?"

"Wormtail returned to my Father's house to care for my Master and to watch over my Father." He droned.

Maisie raised her head from Harry's shoulder wearily, but purposefully. "Did you attack Fleur?" She whispered very sadly, voice very hoarse from her cries. Barty Crouch Jr. didn't look at her. Instead, he kept staring blankly at Dumbledore, though he did answer her question. Unfortunately, that directed the Professors attention to her.

"Yes. One evening, I was waiting for my Father to arrive on the grounds. When he did, I pulled on my Invisibility Cloak and went down to meet him. I was walking around the edge of the Forest and I saw Delacour there, walking towards her carriage. I knew my Master would not have wished for another to encroach on what belonged to him. I struck her. I was going to kill her, but it was too late. Hagrid had come close. So I stunned her and left her there." He said numbly.

"Your Father. What happened to him?"

"I killed my father. I disposed of his body after stunning Krum. I transfigured him into a bone underneath the Invisibility Cloak before burying it in the freshly dug earth in front of Hagrid's cabin." Winky's sobs were loud and sad.

"And tonight..." Dumbledore said quietly.

"I offered to carry the Triwizard Cup into the maze before dinner. I turned it into a Portkey, and am now the reason why Lord Voldemort has returned." A frightening smile came across his face. Dumbledore pointed his wand at him and ropes came from it, wrapping around the smiling man's body until he was very tightly bound.

* * *

 **So if anyone was intensely curious, Voldemort's voice was more or less based on the audio effect on the Devil's voice in The VVitch. Which was actually kind of in the final movie, but imagine he sounded like that all the time, and he wasn't gasping the entire time.**

 **also yeah, i changed a lot of things about the harry-voldemort meet up, and we still don't really have information about WHY exactly voldemort wants maisie in the first place.**

 **but that's for the summer time.**

 **anyway, i hope you enjoyed this chapter, thumbs for voldemort**

 **Remember to REVIEW!**


	25. Chapter 25

**it's been a while, i dont feel bad.**

* * *

 **June, 1995**

 **Hogwarts Castle, Scotland**

 _ **Inside of Your Head, Inside of Your Mind**_

* * *

Maisie was given a potion by the Madam to help her sleep. She had been walked down by Professor Snape, whose sallow face was unusually grim, though that could have been because she had her hand fisted in his black robes while her other hand had clutched the staircase banister. Supposedly a girl marked for death, she was bedded immediately and put to sleep.

Her body and mind both exhausted and worn, she was too weak to fight the potion, so she drifted off to a fitful bout of rest.

In her mind's eye, she very clearly saw a boy. He was older than her, about 17. Tall and handsome, with Slytherin robes that had a shining Head Boy badge on the front of them. Dialogue was not spoken in her dream, but there was something comfortable about it. The boy, "Tom," he said, reading her mind or perhaps hearing her speak out loud? Tom's presence didn't feel threatening to her, which was calming to her restless mind.

"Mairead, I've been longing to meet you." He said to her. "You've grown up wonderfully." Tom charmed her, his eyes never wavering from her.

"Thank you," and, "Who are you," merged together when she opened her mouth to speak, and Tom smiled at her like she just offered him honey for his tea.

"I am your Lord and protector, Mairead." He said. "And I want you to know right away that this isn't a dream that you're having." Tom approached her and she couldn't take a step back, she couldn't move from her spot. It was like her feet had made roots in the ground underneath her.

"You have no idea how important you are," he stressed, his hands (pale like death) ghosting over her arms, sliding them up and down her skin, testing her skittishness. "Mairead, I want you to understand your place; in the wondrous circumstance that's about to repeat itself, you will be treated like the proper witch that you are." Tom's hands moved to her face, feeling her skin as if it had been many years since he had experienced touch.

When he blinked, his eyes which had been a hollow blue color turned into a vibrant and frightening red, startling her.

And the handsome boy, Tom, was gone. In his place was a skinny man, pale and translucent and dressed in black robes. Even his voice had changed and when he spoke again, his voice came out as a whisper. "Mairead, I know that you're confused. I was too, many years ago when I came into my heritage. Which is why I want you to know what has lead you and I to this moment. I will never leave you or your own _past_ in the dark, like others have done to me." Again, he was touching her, but it wasn't pleasant being touched by this man. His hands were icy cold.

"I-I don't―" She attempted to speak pitifully, scrunching up her face to prevent her emotional tears from falling but his cold fingers shushed her.

"Allow me to show you."

His face flickered oddly, to Tom and then to his pallid face, over and over again. It flickered so fast that her eye played tricks on her, especially as Tom and not Tom leaned in close to her, brushing his warm and cold lips (they, like his eyes, kept changing) against hers; It wasn't a kiss, he was doing something. He was showing her.

Then she saw what he saw.

It was her beautiful Mother. She was as blonde and soft skinned as Maisie knew her from her photos. And she was in the embrace of her cousin, of Lucius Malfoy. He was younger, less lines drawn in his face and his hair was tied high with ribbon.

"Luce, you know I have to go through with it." Mother was saying, her tan fingers curling through her cousin's, rocking herself on the balls of her feet and pulling Lucius towards and away from her with her smooth movements. Mr. Malfoy was unfazed by the movement, moving with her sinewy form. "There are… still other options for you. Your death will be―" But Mother interrupted him, something Maisie would be too intimidated to do.

"Necessary for our Lord. Without my death, the spell could fade and wash away once she turns of age." She murmured, looking up into Malfoy's blue eyes, so intensely and with such assuredness that Maisie knew that her Mother didn't doubt herself an ounce at that moment. "For our Dark Lord, I'll birth as many children as I can until I give him a girl to honor." Mabel said powerfully. Then, she curled herself against Mr. Malfoy, embracing him, sensing in him his sorrow. "Have faith."

Her birth was in St. Mungo's. She recognized her Father there, encouraging Mabel, holding her hand as she struggled through the pain of birth.

Maisie couldn't watch herself (was it?) being born. But when she turned, she saw a wizard standing there. It was Tom, though older. His eyes scarlet colored and dressed in a cloak. No one but herself saw him, but he didn't address her like before. Because this was a memory.

Her Mother felt him there. She knew he was there, in her hospital bed, giving him a child to do Morgana knows what.

Maisie heard distantly, "It's a baby girl!" Exclaimed by her Father joyfully. Henry was crying with happiness, kissing his wife's sweaty temple while she tiredly smiled at a part of the room. The part where the Dark Lord stood watching.

All too soon, she was leaving, fading away from this memory and to another.

"I can't see anymore." She croaked out loud, raising her arms and entangling her fingers through her long hair.

"You must."

Bellatrix Lestrange was a frightening woman, even while heavily pregnant. Her Mother, when passing by her and carrying a small wiggling bundle, suffered a hateful glare by the witch. Mrs. Malfoy, a woman she had never met before but knew she was his wife from the ring on her finger and her resemblance to Draco, stood by her sister and kept her from chasing after Mabel and ripping Maisie from her arms. Her husband only stood stone-faced, silent and brooding. "Mabel was chosen, as evidence by your birth." Tom's voice came through. She couldn't see him. "If Bellatrix had been meant to birth a girl first, she would have. Her infant died the night it was born." He didn't care about Lestrange's dead child.

She saw herself, wrapped up, get placed down inside of an old wooden cradle. Her Mother crouched down in front of it, settling the young her's cries of distress.

"Shh.." Mabel hushed her. "Mummy's here baby. Just you wait, you're going to be so big and strong when this is all over."

Maisie took a large step back, out of the room where her Mother was. Tom was there.

"Don't show me this anymore," she begged. "You said you'd tell me everything, right? Just... Just tell me now. I can't see her." The Gryffindor girl, the most cowardly in her class, told Tom. He looked a bit entertained by her, so he allowed his memory to fade out, back to the abyss of her mind where it no longer housed only blackness. Now, they were sat at a round table decorated with ice, the Yule Ball. Her long white gown from that night replacing the hospital garb that she had been in.

"If that's how you'd prefer it." Tom stated plainly. Then, he continued with, "Your Mother participated in an old spell. The magic is ancient, rooted to the magic that we have flowing inside of us. I needed a child in this war, a very special child. But more than that, I needed a woman; You, Mairead. The process of it is slow, compared to others. It drains a chosen of their magic and power, and pours it into another. It can only work, however, on an maiden's soul. During the five years it takes, the spell will cover the soul with a mask, to hide that girl from any and all fatal threats until the day she turns 17 years old."

"Fatal threats?" She started, narrowing her eyes, suddenly enraged, her belly hardening as she approached him. "Then what the hell just happened to me tonight, huh? I know who you are Tom. Y-you just came back. You _hurt_ Harry." Maisie croaked. Tom, _Voldemort_ , smiled at her like she was stupid. "Some goddamn spell that was!"

"My girl, tonight never would have ended your life, even if Albus Dumbledore and Harry Potter didn't interrupt it." The Dark Lord stood up from the table, more agile than he should have been, given that he had been close to dead just earlier that evening. "My word is law, you will never find yourself close to death, for as long as I live. And I have made sure for that." His facade of 'Tom' seemed to be forgotten by him, though his eyes still changed occasionally. "And Harry Potter? He will meet Death sooner rather than later." He looked like he was preparing to leave.

Maisie grimaced at him, hating that it struck a note of fear into her that he was going to be out of her sight. "You haven't told me why you needed me in the first place."

"Yes." The frightening man said. "Which is why we will have to meet again in your sleep. Because you're about to wake up, Mairead." And Voldemort was gone.

/~/

When her eyes opened, Tom was there.

Her revulsion faded though, when she realized that it wasn't Tom. His eyes weren't greener than the rolling his of Ireland and he didn't wear round, wire-rimmed glasses. It was Harry, saying her name, squeezing her hand.

"Harry." Her throat was dry and scratchy. Nearly immediately, a glass of water was pushed into her hand. Maisie drank it down quickly, finishing half of it before taking a long breath of air now that it didn't pain her. The Boy-Who-Lived sat back in his chair, watching her with a guilty look on his face, waiting for her to regain her bearings. He didn't even breathe normally, trying to keep himself quiet in case she was more sensitive now than she was days ago, before their lives had been leveled.

"How―How long was I asleep?" Was the first thing she said, after she moved her body to a sitting position.

"Almost 2 days." Harry murmured.

He heard her sigh, and glanced up as he heard the rustling of her clothes as she wrapped her long, thin arms around herself. "Is this real life, Potter?" Maisie asked him, looking lost. And he understood, more than anyone else, how that felt. Voldemort was back. Cedric was _dead._ Professor Moody wasn't actually Professor Moody, but Barty Crouch's son. Too much had happened in a short amount of time for him to feel anything else anymore, or so he thought. But watching Maisie, his Yule Ball date, his friend, the girl who shared the same dreams that he did, he felt something stir unusually in his chest. Not the same way it did for Cho Chang or when Fleur Delacour had her allure turned up, just... in a different way that felt vastly important.

"Yes." Was all he could say.

The fragile looking Gryffindor girl held out her arm to him. "Pinch me? Just to make sure?"

Harry reached over the small gap between them and touched her tiny wrist, giving her the smallest pinch. Maisie frowned. "Darn, I was hoping that I hit my head or something. Too bad, huh?"

He scoffed, glad that the air had lightened between them now. It made it easier to breathe. "Yeah. Do me a favor, huh? Pinch me too?" He held out his own arm, pulling his sleeve up. His arm was much bigger than hers, tanner, hairier and with the occasional freckle and more defined muscles. Hers was thin and pale with dark blonde peach fuzz with no muscle to speak of.

Maisie smiled weakly at him and pinched the back of his arm. It stung and he laughed, shaking his arm out like she had just slapped him. "I guess this is real for me too. It might be for the best though, I hear the cable in the subconscious is really terrible." Harry jibbed. Maisie's face contorted with confusion and asked him what 'cable' was. He forgot that he hadn't known her past this school year and that she was a pureblood, so she wouldn't know Muggle things like 'cable' or anything to do with the telly really. So, he began to explain it to her.

"So it's floating in the air?"

"Sort of, it sends out a picture through the connection."

The Matron, once she discovered that she was awake, about halfway through the telephone wire discussion, came to check on her. Her vitals were checked, she was given a series of questions and she had to eat a bowl of porridge before being able to leave. Harry gave her his cloak to wear out of the Infirmary, since she had nothing to change into from the pajamas she was wearing. They finished talking about telephone wires and spent the trek up to the common room just... talking.

They talked about tea, "Putting honey in mint tea is outright sacrilege. Whoever actually does that has an _agenda for evil_!"

The painting of Wendlin the Weird, "She could have been ahead of her time, I mean have you tried setting yourself on fire? I don't think you can knock it until you try it." He bantered, trying to make Maisie laugh, which she did.

And even got to her break in Wales with her Father and Aunt. "If she had met my Aunt, I think she could outright shock her right into having a stroke."

Which got to her asking what a stroke was. In the Wizarding World, high blood pressure and cholesterol wasn't that big of a killer.

"So tell me, what's happening?"

A bit more reserved, he told her. "Classes are over. Everyone from the Tournament has gone home by now, but there are more Aurors. Professor Dumbledore is going to have a commemoration in the Great Hall tomorrow... For Cedric."

Maisie hesitated, not knowing if she should touch Harry or not. She decided not to, in case he reacted negatively to it, but she did stop at the bottom step of the moving staircase that was leading them to the Common Room. "Harry, I know that you... That you must have been asked this about a million times already. But I have to know from your end... What happened that night?" The taller of the two Gryffindor students drew more quiet. The staircase stopped in front of the Fat Lady's portrait.

/~/

Fleur was nowhere to be found.

She'd looked for her in the Castle, her usual haunts. Her luggage was packed, ready to leave for the train just after Dumbledore's end of the year speech. She checked the carriages, but even the girl's who'd answered said that they hadn't seen her since the Tournament ended. Maisie insisted and begged them, and their Headmistress came out and took her hands in her colossal ones.

"Fleur ez 'ery tired from ze Tournament mon fille, you understand? I weel of course geev her a letter eef you wish?" She'd said.

So, with trepidation and intense vulnerability, Maisie had taken the paper that Madame Maxine had handed her and she'd scribbled out a letter to Fleur. It was hard not to pour her feelings into it, knowing that others could read it, but she had so much inside of her that she was just so used to telling her beautiful best friend that even when she addressed Fleur's name at the top of it; It was like her ocean tides were calming inside.

She handed the letter to the Madame, then excused herself, wondering what had happened in that one night to have suddenly created a chasm between she and Fleur.

Dumbledore wasn't so horrid to her anymore. He looked forlorn and even older, sitting in his chair where the staff dining table used to be. His words were calming, and she noted that many of the faces around her were touched or moved with tears with his eulogy to Cedric Diggory, whose photo sat enlarged with a candle floating by it to honor him. Sprigs of lavender and tulips on the stone before it.

"Cedric Diggory was murdered by Lord Voldemort."

He was.

And Voldemort was sitting inside of her head in her dreams. In Harry's.

Dismissed and dressed in all of their casual wear, the students made their way in carriages towards Hogsmeade Village. Their luggage was piled onto the train, their minds free from schoolwork and Professors, and all of the excitement from that year was finally able to slip away from them once the warm summer Scottish air washed over their bare knees and young faces.

And the loneliest, most forgotten and unfortunate girl, named Maisie Martin-Moors, walked down through the train and sat down in an empty compartment with her familiar Eugenia. She sat by the window (which she cracked, just an inch) and waited. Luckily for her, she had made a couple friends that year, unlike every other year she had spent in Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. So after just a few minutes in her compartment, Harry Potter and his two friends Hermione and Ron asked if they could sit with her.

"Yeah, feel free." She answered, picking up Eugenia so that Hermione could occupy the seat next to her.

Harry and Ron sat in the seat across from them.

The train started, the whistles blew, and now she finally felt what the others felt when they said they were leaving home. Maisie truly dreaded what she was going to go home to in a few hours time.

* * *

 **gonna end it here, cause gotta go back to your roots man**

 **this sucks actually**


	26. Chapter 26

**What's up AvalonTheLadyKiller and PokemonTrainerDecember? and more, thanks to you guys and KAYKAY22PRINCESS, one Guest and ThePhantomismyLove for reviewing!**

* * *

 **Sunday — June 18th, 1995**

 **Wiltshire, England**

 **Soon, For Litha**

* * *

Draco Malfoy did not think that anything about his life could possibly be restricted. If he felt like going off for a fly―he did. Should he have a whim to go into Wizarding London―he went. If he happened to believe that the goose feathers in his pillows weren't as fluffy as they had been the night before, then they would be replaced with such haste that the Elves would nearly trip over themselves trying to accomplish this in a time that suited him the best. Yes, he lived in a life of privilege and luxury. He knew this very well, from the time he was very young. Even his playmates, Blaise and Theodore, were not as well off as he was.

Blaise, who was now taller than he was and according to the cows who gossiped in the halls, was twice as handsome, lived in Italy during the summers with his Mother and his stepfathers (who were constantly being replaced, one after the other.) His home, which Draco recalled, was full of white marble pillars and wall to wall mahogany floors. It had no frightening portraits nor hidden Dark Objects in parts of the home that he wasn't allow into. Blaise could lounge wherever he wanted in his Mother's house. But, despite this liberty of his, he had no real Father. His Mother was constantly being entertained by suitors or her husbands to spend much time with him. Blaise envied his family.

Theo was as pureblooded as Draco, and his home (was in hideous disrepair in some areas) was just as filled with nasty items and most of the upper levels were off limits to them. Theo also had a bizarre thing about Draco's Mum. As a child, he would gaze after her when she left a room, and he would begin to weep almost openly into his fists until she would come back.

The Heir to the Malfoy family never cried when his Mummy left the room, could spend time with his parents any time if he really wanted to (he rarely did these days) and more often than not could investigate his home without his Father's eye on him.

Which was why he wondered, what did they ever have to worry about? Why had his Mother and Father been in a row since he had gotten back from Hogwarts?

His Father hadn't taken dinner with he and Mother since he'd come back.

Mum, who never allowed herself to frown too deeply in fear of creating wrinkles, had been in a terrible mood since the beginning of the month, or so he remembered from her letters. He'd never seen her more than mildly ticked off before, and it startled him so much that he didn't know how to address it. As a boy, he was able to make her smile by ruining the lives of the other witches who joined her for cards in the evenings. Spying on the gossip that they didn't want the Lady of the House knowing, manipulating the daughters to tell him naughty things about their parents, things of that nature. But she hadn't had her ladies over for tea or gin for weeks.

He felt grandly useless to her. Which made Draco frustrated as all hell.

So he began to take it out on his not-girlfriend Pansy, who had visited for a grand total of three days before her Mother (who was much prettier than her daughter) felt so aggrieved by Narcissa that they left early.

The only good thing was the coming of the Summer Solstice, only that was now thwarted too by Father.

"Mairead—" His Father began to him one night, as he polished his broom, "Is our cousin, Draco." He spoke very firmly and calmly, and Draco knew that it was important to keep their 'family' happy when they arrived. Although he thought with a frown that they didn't count as family without the last name 'Malfoy' tacked onto the end of their first. They had never had their other distant relatives over for longer than a 12-hour night, in fact they barely spoke a 'Good Evening' to them at public functions at all. They were not kind, not inviting unless they held something that they wanted. His Mother's card games were full of relatives, of second cousins and beyond, yet she treated them as she treated all of the other wives. With carefully concealed judgement and condemnation.

"I expect you to watch them, the girl especially." It took him an honest attempt to remember the thin-armed, wide-eyed girl who had been clinging to that Veela last school year. He spoke to her more kindly than he had in their whole school career a grand total of 9 months ago, at his Father's instruction, but he still didn't care for her. She was as pathetic as Longbottom and would probably end up married to some half-blood chump and bare his half-blooded babies by the end of the decade. But his Father looked concerned.

"Do not let her out of your sight for a moment, son." Father said, after a tense silence, like he was trying to find the words to explain.

So Draco stiffened his upper lip, and nodded. "Yes, of course Father." He had a feeling that he wasn't just talking about her staying with them. Fuck all.

/~/

Draco dutifully stood on the other side of his Mother, next to his Father as his Heir. He was taller than she was. At the beginning of the last school year, they had been the same height.

She looked sad and he really hoped that she wasn't going to cry while she was here—he'd had enough of tearful women. He didn't want to have to cheer up his barely-cousin and make her think that she could talk to him outside of classes in school or anything. "Henry," Father greeted a very tall, gangly man who was dressed in forest green robes and rectangular wire glasses.

Maisie's father hand clasped his fathers, and they stiffly shook hands. "Lucius. Mrs Malfoy. Draco."

His Mother was watching the the woman, Venus, hawkishly. He'd heard his fair share about Venus, who's elder husband married her at the bequest of her parents to get her out of the public eye. It was rumored that she had gotten ill with hysteria while she was still in school, before being even engaged and had been in an estranged relationship with a Ravenclaw. Gossip aside, the woman did ruin nearly every party she was invited to, her mouth or just the scandalous garments she wore tore all the attention of the party onto herself.

Mrs Venus Catriné (nee-Moors) wasn't even looking at his Mother, she was watching her niece and her sister-in-law's cousin like she was waiting for something terrible to start.

The atmosphere was stiff.

/~/

It was Draco who lead her inside, though she'd faltered taking his arm.

Maisie hadn't stepped foot inside of Malfoy Manor since before she could remember. There were bits and pieces of the home that she recalled from aging photographs of her Mother. The architecture was the same, but the furniture and coloring was all different. The Manor had been more accustomed to her Mother's Uncle than Lucius Malfoy, who'd added pure white peacocks that strode along proudly outside. No matter how many candles were lit or expansive windows were opened, it looked as if the Manor itself was swallowing whole all of the light in the world.

It was a bleak, dark spot on that side of Wiltshire.

"It's been many years since you've visited us, hasn't it Henry?"

"Not since Mabel's passing." Her Father said rigidly as he lead Mrs Malfoy on his arm. Lucius had Venus on his. Maisie could only see their backs, so she couldn't observe the expressions that were no doubt of dead politeness written in their features. Draco grumpily led her down a short, spacious hallway into a large area of the Manor that has a full wall of windows. It faced the garden, which had a sleek outdoor area with wrapped wicker chairs and a dinner table that could at most fit 6. A maid, one with yellow hair and light colored flesh, stood silently to the side, nearly unnoticed. She was not prettier than her Mistress. There's definitely tension, Maisie thought curiously.

Mrs Malfoy played the part of hostess and lunch was served by the quiet maid.

They'd be there until the day after the solstice. The day before it, a different sort of party would be thrown. The Madame of the Manor, who didn't stop her from calling her 'Mrs' as the air of content around her showed that she actually preferred her proper name, offered to take her to the tailor for a new dress. There was much muttering about that had somehow happened around her that left her witless.

The matter of her betrothal, of suitors, of Percy Weasley came to mind, certainly.

Her fingers ripped open her sweet bread.

maisie, please, i'm so sorry, please, shush shush

a firm pressure around her, her wrists held above her head forcefully

hot breath between her thighs at the bottom of the girl's staircase

She hadn't talked to Harry since her Father had taken her away from the train station. The cowardly Gryffindor definitely wished he was there now, if just to see how it was inside of his rival's childhood home. He'd probably have gotten into a hardy row with her cousin by now, if not full blown fisticuffs. That last school year had been more than hellish for Harry—and Draco, well, Draco had been inevitably Draco. He made it all that more worse for the Boy-Who-Lived, nearly rallying most of Hufflepuff house against him just for being entered into that stupid Tournament.

Maisie glanced at the boy, who was quickly becoming man at her side.

Draco hadn't changed much in the two weeks since she last had seen him. His features were still pointed, eyes a smokey grey and his face still looked sharp like under worked marble. He was taller than she was, his platinum hair was neatly slicked back. Nearly every moment was well thought out, artfully relaxed yet arrogant. It looked like he had been trained spectacularly on how to move, act, even on how to chew his food. But from Maisie's eye, she saw his knee bobbing, up and down, under the table. Then, his fingertip would tap at the end of his unused spoon.

Not so perfectly trained, then.

Lunch ended when the maid took away their empty plates and vanished into a hidden door.

"Love, I want you to keep an open mind over the next few days." Her Father muttered to her, lagging behind as the maid, now free of dishes, began to show them to their rooms. The walls made the hallways chilling.

"An—I—what?" She stammered questionably. "Dad, an open mind for what?" Sentences properly formed from her smooth recovery.

Henry's face twisted, sharp nose wrinkling at the ridge. "Just—" He stopped himself and looked up, away from her like it would kill him otherwise. "Just keep your mind open for—well, that is to say, what you see around you." betrothed to Draco

Harry Potter

He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named

"Yes." Was all she could return to him. Some of the strings of fabric in her sleeves had snapped and were sticking out from her pulling and yanking on them. "Good-night Dad, I-I've got to go have a bit of a rest. All that traveling has gotten me rather drowsy." Maisie blathered, hurrying into the room that was designated as her own before nearly-shouting out another 'Good-night!' out of the crack of the door in the middle of her shutting it and locking it. There wasn't a moment of dead silence in between this action and her next. From the click of the lock, she turned around and dove straight for the large window at the end of her room and pushed the glass open. It clanged, deafly to her since the sound of her beating heart was loud in her ears, and she put out her long gangly legs outside.

It was late afternoon now, but it was still a British summer, so there was a cold outside.

Her stockings had probably ripped by now. They'd caught on the tiles on the roof. Her shoes weren't resistant to slipping, but she had her wand.

Maisie slipped herself outside and then immediately fell down off of the third story, headed straight down for the grass. She'd squawked out a half-hearted cushioning charm at the grass, which was weak and only stopped her from just so snapping her neck. The peacocks all fluttered away, screeching and flapping their brilliant wings when she landed, their feathers smacking her.

"Well what do you want me to do?" She groaned angrily at them, her bruised knees encouraging her to bat at the feathered creatures. "I couldn't aim away from you, you've got about thirty sisters!" They strode away from her with nobility, like they knew they were worth more than she was.

The tall Gryffindor girl got up onto her feet, with no small amount of her limbs creaking, to move towards the open space outside of the Manor's property.

Maisie didn't know what she was doing or where she was going, but she did know that she was leaving.

What else can I do, she thought fitfully. I cannot marry Draco, I can't be sold off to him, even if we are cousins!

Draco wasn't solid, he wasn't reliable. He wouldn't be a good husband, not to her.

She feared him. Maisie didn't know how he'd react or what he would do even if they did become betrothed. Would he stop Pansy, and the other girls in Slytherin from torturing her? Or would he allow them to run rapid, to actively search her out if she was to take their Prince away? The girl jogged to the farthest hedges only to be stopped in her tracks when she peeked through the foliage. Not because she'd realized the error of her ways, how this would embarrass her family. Maisie stopped because she saw a figure, there, over the hill walking towards them.

They were tall, she started to memorize. Topped with black hair and dressed like a man.

"He's coming this way," The sable haired girl murmured softly to herself, watching him step step step, closer and closer to the Manor. "What are you doing here? Coming in from the back and not from the front gate..." The man took out his wand, which sent a panic through her, so she ran like a startled giraffe away from the open space and back towards the Manor. She did not want to be the first one that this suspicious man saw. Maisie gave no one a start, they'd blow past her easily. Anybody in the Manor was more threatening to this man than Maisie Martin-Moors.

/~/

Two years in the future, she would look back on herself and wish she had gathered her family and forced them to apparate out of there.

How stupid could she be? How careless in thought? Did her dreams of Tom Riddle tell her nothing, was she so intent on ignoring those nagging feelings that she would curse her own foot off? The Tom in her dreams was the same as this man, approaching the Malfoy Manor like it was his name on the documents rather than her Mother's cousin. You-Know-Who's return—Voldemort's return. Anyone who knew anything knew that Lucius Malfoy had been a Death Eater, one of Voldemort's faithful. He'd been acquitted, claiming the Imperious Curse.

But Maisie knew that he hadn't been under that curse at all. No one under the Imperious could look so longingly after another nor could he create a child with his wife. Her Mother, swollen with her inside of her belly, had been closer to Lucius than his wife, who'd been hooked arm in arm with her equally pregnant sister.

Maisie was born first.

She was the one who had the honor of dying for the Dark Lord, when the time came to it. Bellatrix and Narcissa lived while Mabel's spirit wandered the Earth, having given up all of her power to her daughter, who would in turn use it to lay a protection of blood over Lord Voldemort.

Unfortunately, the Mairead of now did not know her future.

What she did know, was that a man with his wand was striding into the lawn. So the only thing that she could think of to do was to dive out of his line of sight, behind one of the fountains. The sound of rushing water was loud enough to mask the sound of her breathing and her movements.

Though fountain water didn't protect from simple means like sight. Or taste.

The snake, which she hadn't seen (as it had been on the ground, following after her Master), found her. Tasted the air around her ankles and then moving to entangle around her.

The sudden touch made her yelp loudly and kick the slow moving snake away, physically throwing herself away from the creature. Not unexpectedly at that point, as she was mentally kicking herself, the unknown stranger immediately came 'round the hedge to peer down at her.

He was handsome. His face was pallid and nearly see-through. The man's overall appearance was striking, and her heart sped up as he approached, standing over her with an odd expression in his features. Maisie couldn't stop staring at him. _There's something there_ , she heard echo in her mind. Her magic within her was bursting, she felt **_powerful_** and nearly set the grass on fire.

"What are _you_ doing out here, girl?"

Her face went red hot and she began to stammer out as she forced herself up to her feet (grasping desperately at the fountain edges), "I-I was having a bit of a walk rou- _Around_ the gardens." Maisie corrected herself hastily, fixing her clothes and hoping he hadn't noticed her torn stockings and muddled hair. He had, if the way his eyes lingering on her knees meant anything. His lips thinned.

"May I have your name?"

"Mairead. People call me Maisie, though."

The stranger's eyes darkened with displeasure, and she saw somehow that she'd disappointed him in an unknown way. "I am not 'people', Mairead." He said, warningly.

"Yessir..." Was his muttered response.

Mr. Stranger did not frown nor did his expression change, but he did hold out his hand for her to take. "Lead me inside, Mairead?" A veiled order.

"Yes, a'course."

A sharp look from Mr. Stranger made her hurry and correct herself, "Of course. _Sir_."

With her face still blooming with red embarrassment, she lead Mr. Stranger inside from the Garden glass doors and tried to stay calm even when the ugly moths in her belly felt crucified. Maisie offered to take his cloak for him once inside (which he did relent to, letting her disrobe him, revealing his thin adult body underneath) and she asked if he'd like anything to drink (which he refused, though he allowed her to put out water for the familiar which had been following after them.)

She didn't dare to ask him for _his_ name, and he didn't offer it.

Maisie gnawed on her inner cheek, wanting to hurry upstairs and fetch her Mother's cousin. He wasn't as frightening as this man, but he was imposing. More imposing than her Father, who she hoped stayed upstairs, for his own safety.

Mr. Stranger didn't look uncomfortable at all, he was just dandy actually. He found himself a nice chair to lounge in by the fireplace, seeming content enough to just watch her.

The few moments of silence smothered her.

Her one relief from it was the maid. The quiet maid who stumbled inside, gasped at the sight of the guest, then quickly bowed her head lowly.

"My Lord, please, my apologies that I was not here to welcome you." The maid said quietly, sounding frightened.

Mr. Stranger (Lord?) waved his hand at the woman. "Cease your fretting and retrieve Lucius. I'd like to speak with him this evening."

"Absolutely, of course, Lord." The maid made her exit hastily, and Maisie found herself following after her.

The man stopped her at the door, as she had to walk around him to leave the parlor. He barely touched her arm and it sent a twist to her belly. "Mairead," he started simply. "Don't hide your face." That was an outright order of his, with no room for arguments. She wanted immediately to snap at him, say he had no authority to tell her what to do, even though he was watching her with piercing eyes and touching her long, limp sable hair like they were old curtains that were interrupting the otherwise pleasant flow of a room. Black eyebrows furrowed with irritation. "Tell Narcissa to cut your hair. Tonight, if you have the time." He then rose up from his seat, ignoring the incredulous look on her face.

"You're excused. Run along, Draco is waiting for you on the staircase."

Who the fuck did this guy think he was? That was all she could think as he left her there gaping.

* * *

 **More Tom/Maisie. soon more HarryMaisie and the mourning of FleurMaisie.**

 **anyone know what happened to Fleur?**

 **R &R**


	27. Chapter 27

**Thanks to Chocoholics Unites, Lady Ravanna, sukondis, PokemonTrainerDecember, fowlgirl19, Spark10111, one Guest and AvalonTheLadyKiller for reviewing the last chapter.**

* * *

 **Tuesday — June 20th, 1995**

 **Wiltshire, England**

 ** _Unimpressive_**

* * *

She'd found herself with the animals outside a lot.

The Malfoy's didn't like going out to buy their food, so they had a small farm on the property (though it was away from the Manor) where they kept a few long-lashed brown cows, sheep, goat, chickens and a Pyrenees to protect them. Ducks came in seasonally. There were supposed to be Elves watching the animals, picking the eggs and getting milk, but Maisie couldn't find hide nor hair of them whenever she ventured down the hill. That's what good Elves were supposed to do, she figured. Do their jobs, not be seen or heard. Like the Elves back in Hogwarts. Elves unnerved her when she couldn't see them as they worked. Yesterday, she found that the sheep had a lamb that was born a few weeks prior that she couldn't be parted from.

It was a sweet thing, with soft ears and bow-legs, only getting the hang of using them. Maisie fed it dandelions and pieces of grass, softly rubbing it's velvety ears between her fingers. It was nice, having a small warm lamb in her lap. It distracted her from what was going to happen today.

A 'gathering' for her. A party, celebrating her come to passage. By the end of the week, she'd be betrothed to someone.

Her Mother's cousin was weird about this party. He didn't look nervous (did Malfoy's even sweat, they always looked so perfectly put together?) but she noticed a look on his face that morning. Flowers were arriving, ones that didn't fit in with the impressive Malfoy decor, even in the lighter ballroom. Fluffy peonies, forget-me-nots and delicate wisteria were being set up with precision. Ivory table cloths, round crystal champagne glasses stacked in a tall tower.

And that, that _man._

Her short hair grazed below her jaw. She had short, wispy baby bangs that rested high on her forehead. She looked extremely young, like she was twelve and not nearly sixteen.

He'd told Mrs Malfoy to cut her hair and so she did. Maisie didn't like the way it looked at all, she outright despised it actually. Out of bitterness, she wanted her long, limp brown hair back. Just because he'd done that, given her an _order_. Who was he to order her around? If he was a friend of the Malfoy's or even if he was a bloody fucking marriage prospect, he didn't get to tell her how to dress or act or how she decided to wear her hair. She wasn't sold off, she wasn't married. She was her own person until the day she said 'I do' and damn it all if she didn't get to have limp, fucked up hair until that day!

The soft lamb in her arms 'baaaa'd gently.

Her mossy eyes focused at the Manor ahead and saw Draco approaching, a foul look on his face. He looked starkly like his Mother just then, like he'd taken a whiff of something utterly foul. He might have, with her being in the small pen of sheep.

He lost his disposition of cool, he looked annoyed, a bit disgusted and also exasperated. His foot steps were extremely heavy as he walked down from the hill top to the fine wooden fence, nearly glaring at her as she sat in the grass of the pen, holding the lamb and not even moving up from her spot even when he'd reached her.

"What are you doing in there? You probably wreak." He said meanly to her. If she was a first year, she would have wept.

Instead, she felt unaffected by her cousin's words and treated them like tiny gnats buzzing around her head.

"What do you want, Draco?"

The lamb bit the top of the flower that she offered it.

Maisie peered upward at her cousin, who was looking peevish at her and especially at a small yellow chick that was chirping at him by his feet. If he kicked it, she'd slap him, she promised herself that. He didn't, he just took a step away from it. It followed him.

"It's almost six. Mum's waiting for you in her parlor."

How was it six? She didn't carry a watch, but the sun still looked cheery. It had moved in the sky to the west since she'd gone down to the small farm...

Maisie ignored Draco for a minute in favor of petting the lamb. His tapping on the gate annoyed her though, so she leaned down and kissed the lamb's wool head before lifting it up off of her. "Fine then, I'll be up." She said tonelessly as she brushed hay and grass off of her skirt. Draco breathed sharply out of his nose and he narrowed his silvery eyes at her.

"I'll escort you."

"No thanks."

"Martin-Moors." The tall boy said warningly. It wasn't effective, she didn't care if he was bothered by her behavior. He interrupted her leisurely time with the animals, what did she mind if he was ticked by it?

"What, Draco? Have you been forced by Mummy to take your ickle cousin Mairead upstairs? I couldn't give two shits about what you've been told to do, _I_ told you I'll be upstairs in one goddamn minute, you don't have to hover around me all the time!" Maisie snapped at him, stepping close to the gate, so close that he jumped back like she was going to strike him. Instead she just pointed her dirty, broken fingernail at him, shaking it angrily. Draco looked pink in the face. He'd never seen her curse before. Never seen her with a bit of spice. But it embarrassed him that he'd jumped away from her, from a girl who'd just been cuddling with a lamb all afternoon, so he glared at her and told her sternly to be upstairs before it struck six, then turned quickly and strode back up to the Manor.

Maisie was glad that he'd left. And was right chuffed about the way he'd moved away from her like that.

She felt more powerful, more comfortable with herself.

The end of her freedom awaited her though, so she bid her good-byes to the animals she'd spent the last few hours with and then climbed over the fence rather than go through the gate. She liked small rebellions like that... Doing things the hard way. Getting a bit dirty.

/~/

The gown she was put in was faintly blue-grey. Silk slippers were on her feet and horrid feeling flowers were pinned on the side of her hair. The girl knew better than to complain to Narcissa Malfoy though. There was absolutely no conversation between the two of them, it was dead silence besides a soft-commanded 'tilt your head back' or 'close your eyes.' The two women had only one thing in common, and that was they had both gone through the very same. Dolled up, paraded around in hope for a good spouse to sweep them off of their families worries.

Narcissa had been luckier though, Maisie thought as she observed the older woman. She'd had two sisters, all three of them beautiful.

The eldest had nearly brought down their worth. She'd run off and married a muggleborn man, swollen with his spawn.

The other two, Bellatrix and Narcissa herself, had to work hard to make good marriages after that debacle. No man would take them if they thought that the other two sisters were tainted by Andromeda's actions. They all shared the same blood. Both snatched good men, maybe not for love or even for themselves, but to make up for their sister's betrayal.

Maisie wondered if Mrs Malfoy loved her husband or if she merely bonded with him.

Lucius loved her Mother. Did he love Narcissa too? He must a little bit, living with each other for so long.

The blonde woman dipped a small round brush into some kind of cosmetic, then began to apply it to her under eyes and over a few blemishes she knew she had. Then some kind of sheer lip tint was painted on her mouth before she did something to her eyes and her eyebrows. It felt really weird, having her eyebrows brushed and pigment being put on her eyelids by another person. Like when Lavender and Parvati put make up on each other, but those two were always so giggly, ridiculously soppy yet precise.

Mrs Malfoy was grave.

She said a spell that Maisie didn't know, but made her face feel incredibly locked in. It was uncomfortable, but the Madam of the house told her to smile and to come when called. People were arriving.

/~/

It's been years since he had this face.

He was still comfortable in it, knew how to charm those around him with his smile or a glimmer in his eyes, fooling them that they were seeing a part of him that he showed no one else. But the face didn't really belong to him anymore, he'd moved himself past wooing middle-aged witches and wizards and became the proper man he always thought he'd be. Sacrificing his good looks— _his filthy muggle seed giver's looks, the woman abandoner, the wretch_ —wasn't a second thought, he'd give away everything feature of his physical form for the power he could gain.

Now, he found himself needing it again.

For this young calf, this _female._

He was not fond of this girl. The plan had not gone like he'd have liked. If he had succeeded in his execution of the Potters, he would have returned and oversaw how she was raised, she could have been trained from babe-hood to her position. There were now fifteen years of error in her make up. At her core, he saw that she was full of annoying flaws that he would have beaten out of her if she were a child. Argumentative, passive and rowdy from when he watched she and Draco together. They pushed each other, he would be disagreeable, so she would confront him with fire and an edge in her dirty green eyes.

Her features too, were not typical.

Few women had ever graced his bed. He found human acts like fornicating to be distasteful, but he did want to experience it to see for himself what would be a waste of his time.

The girl's features did not match those who he bedded at all. She was very girlish and plain, with brown sable hair and moss green eyes. Her complexion was lightly dashed with sun spots and freckles. She was tall, with long legs and arms that made her look almost spidery. He had Narcissa cut off her hair at the nape of her neck because he found her long tendrils of frayed hair to be disgusting.

She felt inward hatred for him now, for changing her. It was a step backwards. But Lord Voldemort felt no regrets, did not care if this little woman-child detested him for taking her hair. He would smooth it all over tonight during the presentation of her suitors.

"My Lord, everything is ready," Lucius said, perfectly sculpted without even a waver in his voice.

"Thank you Lucius, you may go on." He returned gently, knowing his features were soft and the small smile on his face was comfortable. It didn't relax Lucius at all.

Entering the ballroom, he frowned. Voldemort was not one for traditional pureblood events, including this one. He didn't like how loosely everyone was dressed, all of them in natural silks, cotton, wools and linen. Most were in a shade of ivory, blue, green and brown. He was the only one wearing pitch trousers and robes. He stuck out easily in the room. He was the most imposing figure there, even when only Lucius and Narcissa knew who he was truly. Another 'tradition' that he found _interesting_ , was that not only Dark families had arrived to this ceremony.

The Higgs clan was there, who were neutral.

Then Davis, the Macmillans and the Longbottoms.

But then there was the Greengrass family, Bulstrode and the Notts.

Draco had found his friends in the hoard of people in the ballroom quickly and were acting very boy-like while lingering by the wall opposite the windows. It was dark and cloudy outside, so the open windows gave no light to the ceremony. The room smelt of peonies and fresh lavender, which he thought was too floral for the dark Manor. Nothing about this Manor suited it's owners.

Ahh, there was Mairead's family.

Venus looked angry and Henry looked white.

The only man in black picked up a round glass of mead with no intention of finishing it and observed as the ballroom filled with more people. There weren't many here, maybe around 14 suitors along with a few family members they'd each brought with them. In his opinion, everyone looked extremely strained or extremely hopeful. Lucius Malfoy offering Mairead Martin-Moors' dowry, that meant something. Marrying her would mean family ties, business propositions and land. Others who were strained were people like the eldest Longbottom who looked around in the ballroom with concealed distaste for the family who was hosting. It was preposterous to him. For people like those around him, some light and some dark, but were putting aside their hatred for each other for a simple _religious_ ceremony.

Why not open an attack?

He didn't believe in any kind of god or gods. Not Muggle nor Magical.

There were no such thing, there was only man and magic to him. Those who wielded power and who feared it.

Benevolent or malicious Gods of the past were only people who were unseen, torturing Muggles with their spells.

Yet every single person around him feared even taking out their wands during a time like this.

Voldemort saw the waif of the girl enter the room before anyone else. She was the only one wearing crystal hanging teardrops from her ears. She too had flowers on her, pinned on the side of her hair and wrapped around her left wrist. Narcissa did well, that girl was almost beautiful now. But all he could see was her on the ground with ripped knees. Untidy, gangly, the girl who snuck into sheep's pens.

"She looks _breathtaking,_ " whispered one of the suitor's near him.

/~/

Maisie had never been more uncomfortable in her entire life.

There were a large group of Slytherin boys who she's glimpsed in Hogwarts before, even a few who've already graduated. They were staring at her like hawks, except for Draco. He was drinking his mead and looking away from her. _Good_ , she thought, _I don't want you looking at me anyhow._

Then, the rush began when suddenly she was meeting everyone, from her suitors to their parents and brothers and sisters. She was re-introduced to her classmates in the most bizarre manner. Boys who watched her get tortured by Pansy Parkinson without a care were now bowing their heads and kissing her palms.

Blaise Zabini, the most handsome boy in their year, but also one of the coldest, gave her the most dazzling smile and it sent her heart almost skipping. What was he doing looking at her like _that_? Like she wasn't someone less than he was. He'd treated women better than her like rubbish, but now all of a sudden she was worth his time? Maisie didn't know what to do with herself, so all she could manage was blushing and smiling back. It was better with Neville. She _knew_ Neville, not well, but he was a familiar face and form to her. So the girl of the evening met eye contact with him and took his hands when he offered them.

The blonde boy had really changed lately, he was always bigger than the others. He was taller now though and in his brown clothes his arms looked big and his shoulders broad. But his face was still a bit round, with his baby face slowly sharpening up.

"Hey Neville." She breathed thankfully. The boy turned pink. His grip was firm and sweaty.

"Hi Maisie, how are you?" Neville asked.

"Would you believe if I lied and said I was underwhelmed?"

He shook his head and scoffed boyishly. "No, not at all. Sorry."

"It's alright. I wouldn't have believed it either."

A look of 'oh, right', came over Longbottom's face when the old woman next to him bumped him, so he quickly rectified it by introducing the two of them. "Mai- _Mairead,_ this is my Grandmother—Augusta Longbottom."

The woman was a true fright. She was shorter than her grandson, but not by much. She was imposing even in her grey cotton dress. Augusta Longbottom had a fixed look on her face that she worried that she had flower petals on her cheeks. But the woman only greeted her coolly, reminding her of McGonagall, before she was whisked away to meet someone else.

There were two men she'd never seen before who each had dark features and almond shaped eyes, who she shook hands with.

And then there was him.

That horrible, stupid and mean man who ordered the murder of her hair. He waited for her to come to him. She had no choice but to see him, he was the only person left for her to meet. So she swallowed her pride, smoothed out the bodice of her dress, then carefully walked the two yards to join him. He'd outstretched his arm, palm up, cold gaze waiting for her to grasp his hand.

Maisie didn't want to have to reach for him.

So she mirrored his hand, offering him her palm instead, her face like stone.

And there, his eyes _gleamed._ An amused smile broke across his face. It was small, but it _just so_ reached his eyes. When Mr. Stranger took her hand, his eyes lighter, he looked three times as handsome. It shocked her so much her stained lips fell open and she felt vertigo. But then, it was gone without a trace when he dropped her hand and stuffed his own into his pockets. He was the only person there dressed in a four-piece black suit with black pants. He was striking in the sea of earthy tones. Like an emerald on top of many diamonds.

"Are you here for my hand?"

"No." He said. "That's purely coincidental. I'm here checking on an asset of mine that I've had Lucius watch for me."

"An asset?"

"Grown up wizard business."

Maisie despised being treated like a little girl. It was no business of hers why Mr. Stranger was in the Manor, but she WAS curious. If he was there for business, then why stay for the party when he obviously wanted no part in it? He wasn't dressed properly, he didn't seem like he knew anything about the ceremony at all... Was he not pureblooded? Maybe he didn't know what it was for. But even half-bloods participated correctly. No way he was a muggleborn.

/~/

The look on that girl's face.

The way she stared up at him, lips pursed, hands grasping at her skirt and eyes wide. She stared at him right in the eyes, unmoving, unfazed. His hands were nearly burning as the vertigo faded. He was shaken. Uneasy. And now, shielded and angry from the new experience that just happened to him.

The girl, Maisie, as she had been referred to by the Longbottom boy, backed away from him, a frightened look on her face. Moss eyes with their gleam gone like it was never there. Pupils dilated.

Then she was whisked away from him by a boy nary older than nineteen and she was gone.

The dancing was old fashioned. A long step kind of dance, with many other couples dancing as well, interchanging partners. No one approached or talked to him for the rest of the evening. It was only Maisie who had looked him right in the eyes like that in the last twenty-five years. of his life. Even not including the time he spent inhabiting snakes on the continent.

Voldemort finished his drink.

Maisie looked the most unhappy on the arm of her cousin, whose mask wasn't good enough to hide his disagreement.

He picked up another glass of mead.

/~/

Her Dad looked ill, and she hoped that he hadn't drank any mead. Alcohol made him right vomit-y.

But he didn't tell her anything. Just spoke nicely about how pretty she looked and how he hoped she'd be happy with his decision. It made her concerned, but she had no choice but to follow through. No matter who he chose. Even when the name that he uttered was, "Draco Lucius Malfoy."

And so the end of her life began when Draco Malfoy, her so-called second cousin, her school-long torturer, became her fiánce.

There were no rings, but there was an incredibly, horribly awkward kiss to her cheek.

They hated each other.

But all she could do was look out into the crowd of eligible bachelors and found the one person who looked happy. Mr. Stranger.

* * *

 **i think its good, but then again, i wear floral and plaid together.**

 **R &R**


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